Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 7

For John Whitehorne

Some time ago John Whitehorne notified us of his wish to have his retirement from the editorial board of BASP coincide with that from the University of Queensland. Now that this moment has come we want to take leave of him in an appropriate fashion with the largest issue of BASP ever and to thank him for all the work he has put into the journal over the years. John joined the editorial board as a co-editor in 1995 and has been an enormously helpful voice from down under for three successive editors (Terry Wilfong, Traianos Gagos, whose In Memoriam sadly follows this editorial, and the undersigned) in charge of BASP. John has also been a consistent contributor to the journal. From 1975 until 2009 I count seven articles and nine reviews. Some of his contributions to BASP are classics (e.g., The Ephebate and the Gymnasial Class in Roman Egypt, BASP 19, 1982, 171-184, and Petitions to the Centurion: A Question of Locality? BASP 41, 2004, 155-169). John will have lots of time from now on, so we can expect more from his hand in the future. The American Society of Papyrologists is glad to have found an able successor for John in Jitse Dijkstra, Associate Professor at the University of Ottawa. Peter van Minnen

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 9-10

Traianos Gagos (1960-2010)

Peter van Minnen University of Cincinnati

Traianos Gagos, Editor-in-Chief of BASP from 2000 to 2005, unexpectedly died earlier this year. Papyrologists everywhere, especially in North America, expected to be able to enjoy his contributions to papyrology and his company for decades to come. It was not to be. Traianos was attracted to papyrology by the teaching of Professor Manolis Papathomopoulos. To finish his education, he went to study with Professor David Thomas in Durham, England. His 1987 dissertation, of which Traianos was always very proud, was a hefty tome editing fourteen documentary papyri from Oxyrhynchus (a much abbreviated version appears in P.Oxy. 61). He was immediately hired to work on the Duke Data Bank of Documentary Papyri in Ann Arbor. Traianos did this for a couple of years after which he was hired by the Department of Classical Studies at the University of Michigan. I took over the work on the DDBDP in Ann Arbor in 1990 and quickly became Traianoss best friend. In 1991 he was appointed also in the Special Collections Library at the University of Michigan, which brought him to the Papyrology Rooms (807 Hatcher Graduate Library for insiders) on a daily basis. For almost a year the two of us enjoyed a productive and in any case most exhilarating working partnership. It was a time of great discoveries and great plans. We worked up three Byzantine documents from Alabastrine and published them in one of the early volumes of the Journal of Roman Archaeology (5, 1992, 186-202). We also stumbled upon a two-meter long papyrus that had been curiously overlooked (published in 1994 as P.Mich.Aphrod. in a specially created series by the University of Michigan Press, which had not published anything like it since 1960). Our discussions about these texts rang through the otherwise subdued halls on the eighth floor of Hatcher. In 1991, even before Professor Orsamus Pearl died, Traianos started sifting through the many boxes of unpublished papyri registered under Pearls name in 807. They turned out to contain hundreds and hundreds of documentary papyri from Karanis. While going through the folders, Traianos noticed complex numbers written on their front. When he showed me these, I recognized them as excavation labels I had collaborated on an exhibition catalogue including materials from the University of Michigan excavations at Karanis

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earlier and remembered how the excavation labels had to be read. Proceeding with the folders, Traianos noticed that many came from the same house, as indicated by the excavation labels. He then muttered the memorable phrase that still echoes in my mind as I write these words: Wouldnt it be funny to study a house? It took several minutes before I, who was sitting at the other end of 807, stood up and formulated the approach which I reported on in ZPE 100 (1994) 227-251. Traianos immediately became excited by the prospect of reading the Karanis material house by house. We applied this approach in a few sessions of the papyrology seminar conducted by Professor Ludwig Koenen in the spring of 1992, memorable also for the first application of digital technology to the study and teaching of papyrology. The two of us also reported on Karanis materials at various national and international conferences. I left Ann Arbor in the course of 1992, and our mutual contact became more sporadic. The University of Michigan became a leader in the application of digital technology in papyrology thanks to Traianos. He was a founding member of the Advanced Papyrological Information System and directed the work on digitizing and cataloguing the published and unpublished Michigan papyri in the past fifteen years. He also became part of the team that worked on the Petra papyri, of which he co-authored one volume (P.Petra 3). He coedited Festschriften for two of his elders, P.Thomas and P.Mich.Koenen. On top of all that, he organized the papyrological congress in Ann Arbor in 2007, the proceedings of which have just been made public. It is with great personal sadness that I write this note. It will be up to others to produce a more complete record of Traianoss accomplishments. Sit tibi terra levis, Traiane.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 29-32

Hexameters from Late Antiquity with a Homeric Allusion

Abstract Edition of a sixth-century fragment of a poem with an allusion to Homer, Iliad 2.489. The hexameter poem was likely an encomium from Late Antiquity. P.Vindob. G. 42.850 H x W = ca. 29 x 7 cm VI AD

Written on the recto with the fibers. Three lines of tachygraphy on the verso, also written with the fibers, in different hands, to judge from the ink. The recto preserves legible fragments of seven hexameters and illegible fragments of five more. For most of the top half of the papyrus only the vertical fibers are intact, and one more hexameter is completely gone. There is a large blank space at the bottom (ca. half the height of the sheet; not in the photo). It is unclear whether the top is preserved. The provenance is unknown. The text does not come from a codex since there is tachygraphy on the back. Since the recto has a large bottom margin and the text contains lectional aids, the preserved passage may be from a school exercise. The hand is too fluent for a pupil, however; perhaps it was a copy made by a master. The hand is sloping and roughly comparable to the hands of plates 32 and 33 (mid to late sixth century) in G. Cavallo and H. Maehler, Greek Bookhands of the Early Byzantine Period (London 1987). Given morphological forms noted in the line commentary below, the text should be classified as late antique.1 The fragment edited here makes a modest contribution to our knowledge of late antique hexametric poetry. Of particular interest are the sporadic lectional aids in the text.2 The text is likely to be

On late antique poetry in Egypt, see most recently L. Migulez Cavero, Poems in Context: Greek Poetry in the Egyptian Thebaid (Berlin and New York 2008). 2 Cf. E.G. Turner, Greek Manuscripts of the Ancient World, 2nd ed. (Oxford 1987) 8-12.1

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from a poetic encomium, such as the encomia of Dioscorus of Aphrodite.3 The poet notes the excellences () of the laudandus and quotes Homer, saying that not even ten mouths would be enough to sing the necessary praises. In an encomiastic prelude of a letter from the same period (P.Cair.Masp. 3.67295.2.28), we find another example of Homeric verse used similarly: there, even if the writer had ten mouths, he could not surpass the rhetorical skill of the person to whom he is writing. The last verses here hope for a light old age for the addressee. None of the lines preserve text before their caesurae. - - - - - - - ------ ] . . . . [ ]....[ [ [ ] . . ] . . ] .[ ] .[ ] . . . . . . . [ ].......[ 5 top layer missing top layer missing ] . . . . [ ] . . . . [ ] ] ] ] ] . [ ] 10 ][ ] [] ]. . [ ]. . [ ] . . [ ] [] ] . [ ] [ vacat vacat Of virtues ... you all ... may I become to men ... and had found ten mouths ... I will sing(ing) ... may you come to deep old age ... and still sickness 7 : this archaizing uncontracted gen. pl. always occurs at verse end in hexametric poetry, and it only occurs in late antique and Byzantine poets. Christodorus (V-VI AD) has it once, in Anthologia Graeca 2.1.98. The poems of Dioscorus of Aphrodite (VI AD) preserve the gen. pl. eight times, in P.Aphrod.Lit. IV.4.11; 18.29; 20.15; 24.25; 29.15; 32A.25 and 29; and 35.4. Theodorus Prodromus (XI-XII AD) in his Carmina Historica has it six times, in 42. 7, 51, 552, and 560; 68.1; 69.3 (cf. W. Hrander, ed., Theodoros Prodromos, Historische Gedichte [Vienna 1974]). The noun is used once by Proclus (V AD) in Hymn 7.18 (cf. E. Vogt, ed., Procli Hymni [Wiesbaden 1957]). See also the Anthologia Palatina 1.10.29; 9.197.6; and 704.1.3 On Dioscorus, see particularly J-L. Fournet, Hellnisme dans lgypte du VIe sicle (Cairo 1999).

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8 The text may have contained a second person plural verb, followed by the fem. pl. voc. The quotation of Homer in l. 10 suggests that the poet may be apostrophizing the muses. There is perhaps a high stop at the end of the line. 10 : the phrase is taken from Iliad 2. 489: the invocation of the muses before the catalogue of ships ( , ). Nonnus too mentions the inability to do justice to an overwhelming task even with ten tongues (13.47-8). Because of the , it is likely that (accusative because of [] instead of the Homeric at verse end) was in the lacuna at the beginning of the line. requires to precede, but loss of aspiration is otherwise attested for the verb (e.g., in documentary papyri). 11 [: is characteristic of Late Antiquity. Cf. P.Aphrod.Lit. IV.5.13n.: ce terme peu usuel (qui na quune seule attestation

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dans le LSJ) est typique de la posie tardive: Apollinaire, Par. Ps., , 108; XX 27; CIII 71; CXLV 3; CXLVII 2; Synsios, Hymnes, VII (VIII) 50; Jean de Gaza, S. Soph., I 20. Cf. aussi AP I 102, 2 (avec la variante donne par Olympiodore, cite () dans le comm. au v. 15). La posie de Dioscore, avec ses six occurrences (outre celle-l, cf. 7, 2; 11, 29; 18, 35; 32, B 9; 35, 14), est un des meilleurs tmoins de la vogue de ce terme au Bas-Empire sous linfluence de la posie encomiastique. The end of the verb form is lost. [ must be dependent, either as a participle () or as an active infinitive, either present () or aorist (), on the lost verb, ending in , in the immediately preceding lacuna. The passages from Dioscorus of Aphrodite, noted above, provide good parallels for these possibilities. 12 : There are several good comparanda for this noun in the same metrical position in hexametric authors; cf. e.g. Homer, Odyssey 11.196, Hesiod, Theogony 604, Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica 1.684, Dionysius Perieg., Orbis descriptio 393. The noun (either as subject or object) is predominantly followed by a form of /; thus old age either comes upon one, or one comes upon old age. Given that the preceding word ends with an upsilon, a hexameter phrase by Euphorion provides a helpful comparandum: (cf. J.U. Powell, Collecteanea Alexandrina [Oxford 1925] 40f.: Euphorion 53; and with slight difference repeated by Gregory Nazianzenus, Epigrammata 8.16.3). is thus a likely supplement preceding for the present text. 13 : given the slight context, it is difficult to determine a sure reading, either ] or . [: surely from , sickness, disease given the preceding mention of old age; there is not enough context to determine the number and/or case of the noun. Since the final syllable of the hexameter may be either heavy or light and since there is not enough surrounding context to limit the choices, the possibilities are numerous.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 33-43

A New Fragment of LXX Isaiah 23 (Rahlfs-Fraenkel 844)1

AnneMarie Luijendijk Princeton University

Abstract Edition of a previously unpublished fragment with Isa 23:8-10 and 14-15 in the Old Greek (Septuagint) translation, forming part of the same page as an already published papyrus in the Library of Congress with Isa 23:4-7 and 10-13 (Rahlfs-Fraenkel 844). A small fragment in the Princeton University collection contains a section of the prophet Isaiahs Oracle against Tyre in Greek, Isa 23:8-10 and 14-15. This papyrus belongs to the same page as Library of Congress 4082B, preserving Isa 23:4-7 and 10-13, published by Bruce E. Donovan and classified as RahlfsFraenkel 844.2 The identification is clear: both fragments have the same handwriting and present a consecutive text. The Princeton papyrus thus extends a known manuscript, and one of very few early manuscripts of Isaiah in Greek.1 The papyrus belongs to the Papyri Collections, Manuscripts Division, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections of Princeton University Library. For their generous help in writing this piece, I am grateful to Don Skemer, Curator of Manuscripts at Princeton Universitys Firestone Library, to Rodney Ast, Raffaella Cribiore, and other members of the New York Papyrological Seminar, and to the anonymous readers for this journal. I presented this papyrus at the Society of Biblical Literature (New Orleans, November 2009) and thank the audience for helpful comments. The photograph of the top part (fragment 1) is courtesy of the Rare Books Division of the Library of Congress in Washington, DC; that of the lower part (fragment 2) is courtesy of the Department of Rare Books and Special Collections of Princeton University Library. 2 See B.E. Donovan, An Isaiah Fragment in the Library of Congress, Harvard Theological Review 61 (1968) 625-629 (with two plates). See also A. Rahlfs and D. Fraenkel (eds.), Verzeichnis der griechischen Handschriften des Alten Testament, Vol. 1: Die berlieferung bis zum VIII. Jahrhundert (Gttingen 2004) 382-383 (no. 844). The piece is also described in K. Aland, Repertorium der griechischen christlichen Papyri, Vol. 1: Biblische Papyri. Altes Testament, Neues Testament, Varia, Apokryphen (Berlin 1976) 193 (AT 130), and J. van Haelst, Catalogue des papyrus littraires juifs et chrtiens (Paris 1976) 110-111 (no. 295).

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The archaeological provenance for both the Library of Congress fragment and the Princeton fragment remains unknown.3 The Greek translation of Isaiah 23 differs markedly from the Hebrew text. For a detailed, verse-by-verse analysis of the Masoretic and the Septuagint text of this chapter, see A. van der Kooij, The Oracle of Tyre: The Septuagint of Isaiah XXIII as Version and Vision (Leiden 1998) 54-70, with a reconstruction of the possible Hebrew Vorlage of these verses on pp. 131-146. The Library of Congress fragment, the larger of the two pieces (henceforth fragment 1), measures 12.4 x 6.7 cm. As Donovan observed, it preserves the width of the page, with lateral margins likely complete at their greatest preserved points, and contains ten incomplete lines of text per side.4 The upper margin now measures 0.6 cm; originally, it may have been larger.5 The Princeton fragment (henceforth fragment 2) is a rather coarse, light-brown papyrus measuring 5.0 x 5.7 cm. with five fragmentary lines of text on each side. The lower margin of 1.5 cm is partly preserved; lateral margins have broken off. This piece formed the bottom part of the folium in the papyrus codex. The continuous text flowing from the bottom of fragment 2 to the top of fragment 1 indicates that these two pieces form the upper and lower part of the same page. The two fragments, however, do not touch: a section with 3 or 4 lines is missing in between them. Thus while these two pieces form the top and bottom of a page, a middle section (let alone the rest of the codex) is still missing. The script is an informal round, fairly fast, upright hand. The copyist wrote individually formed, small letters (between 0.3 and 0.35 cm. in height) without ligatures, but placed some letters close together, tails touching. The writing is fairly bilinear. projects above and below the line, and the descender of goes sometimes slightly below the base line. has a long tail, crossing over to the next letter. The scribe uses small, leftward-facing hooks on and the first stroke of , , and . s right arm bends down deep to the right. makes a fat oval, while M boasts a round belly. tilts a bit forward. Visually, the stands out: it is broad and tall, with a long stroke underneath. In line 14, the scribe even extended the stroke over 5 letters. The resembles that of P.Chester Beatty V3 Robert Garrett acquired the Princeton piece in 1924 and donated it to his alma mater in 1942; the Library of Congress received its piece from Seymour de Ricci in 1931. See Don Skemer, A Descriptive Inventory of Princeton University Collections of Papyri, at http://library.princeton.edu/libraries/firestone/rbsc/aids/papyri/papyri. html and Donovan, Isaiah Fragment, 625, n. 1. 4 Donovan, Isaiah Fragment, 625. At the Library of Congress the fragment has been preserved covered with thin gauze on both sides and mounted in a paper mat under glass. 5 Ibid.

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(Genesis, 3rd cent.).6 In line 8, final is written with a stroke. Deletion is marked by expunging dots (line 15). The scribe wrote in contracted form as nomen sacrum: , but in line 19 did not contract , a word often written as nomen sacrum in Christian manuscripts. No other words occur in this section that elsewhere appear as nomina sacra. The text contains no reading aids, such as diaeresis, breathing marks, accents, word divisions or punctuation, but the scribe added an apostrophe after the word Sabaoth as aid in pronunciation and wrote the number seventy in full in 17-18. In his edition of fragment 1, Donovan compared the handwriting to P.Ryl. 3.489 (Lysias, 3rd or 4th cent.). Additionally, the handwriting may be compared to that of P.Oxy. 69.4705 (Hermas, 3rd century). It is also similar, but neater in appearance, to a page from a Johannine codex, P.Oxy. 13.1596/P28 (3rd cent., according to Eric Turner,7 or 4th cent., following the editio princeps). The main impression of the hand thus situates it in the third or fourth century. With only few contemporary Greek Isaiah manuscripts, this fragment therefore ranks among the earliest Greek fragments of the book of Isaiah.8

Was this a Jewish or Christian copy? On the one hand, writing a number out in full is a scribal feature common to Jewish manuscripts and could thus point to a Jewish milieu. Christian scribes preferred numerical writing (see ). On the other hand, the nomen also note to lines 17-18 [|] sacrum and the codex format are features that suggest a Christian context.9 Early followers of Jesus applied the words of the prophet Isaiah to their experiences and in later centuries Isaiah remained a beloved book for Christians, as a whole host of homilies and commentaries attest.10 These two small papyrus fragments, forming a badly damaged page from a third- or fourth-century codex, are a material witness to that favored status. The following codicological observations can be made. The addition of fragment 2 helps calculate the height of the page and the layout of the text more accurately, resulting in a slight modification of Donovan and Fraenkels calculations. When still intact, the page measured 12.4 cm by ca. 16.4 to 17.2 cm. The text is written in a single column, as is common for papyrus codices.11 Yet between verso and recto, the layout of the text differed slightly.12 In my reconstruction, the verso featured 18 lines of text with a column of 8.6 cm wide and on average 23 letters per line,13 and the recto 19 lines14 with a column of 9.5 For this view of Christian ascription, see D.G. Martinez, The Papyri and Early Christianity, in R.S. Bagnall (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology (Oxford 2009) 592. See also C.H. Roberts, Jewish Theological Papyri of the Roman Period, in his Manuscript, Society, and Belief in Early Christian Egypt (London 1979) 74-78. Robert A. Kraft argues for more continuity between Jewish and Christian scribal practices (for instance, his 2007 lecture In Search of Jewish Greek Scriptures: Exposing the Obvious? available on his website at http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/rak//temp/toronto3/ report-frame.html). 10 For instance: R.L. Wilken, A.R. Christman and M.J. Hollerich, Isaiah: Interpreted by Early Christian and Medieval Commentators (Grand Rapids 2007). 11 See W. Johnson, The Ancient Book, in Bagnall, Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, 266, with reference to Turner, Typology of the Early Codex, 35-37. 12 Fraenkel already noted this irregularity in size in fragment 1: Wie so hufig, differiert die Kolumnenbreite; sie betrgt auf Verso 8,6 cm and auf Recto 9,5 cm (Verzeichnis, 382). 13 Fragment 1 preserves the width of the page: 12.4 cm (including margins). Donovan estimated 17 lines per page and a height of 11.2 cm (Isaiah Fragment, 625); Fraenkel came to 16.2 cm (Verzeichnis, 382). Between the end of the last line of fragment 1 and the first line of fragment 2, come 68 letters, collating against the Ziegler edition. That makes 3 lines of 22 to 23 letters, about the average length of line for the page, with 18 lines on this side. The 3 lost lines would take up ca. 2.5 cm. 14 The reconstruction according to the Ziegler edition results in a different number of lines for the recto. In the space between the two fragments should come 104 letters in the edition (versus 68 for the verso), or 4 lines with 26 letters each, the average amount9

A New Fragment of LXX Isaiah 23

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cm wide and on average 26 letters.15 Such relatively short lines occur frequently in Christian manuscripts of this period a feature that scholars such as Eric Turner and Larry Hurtado have interpreted as facilitating public reading.16 These measurements make for what in our eyes would seem a relatively small book. At the time, however, it was a fairly typical size.17 A codex of these dimensions falls into Turners Group 9 Square/Aberrant 1 (not square).18 One may compare it to: P.Oxy. 3.548 Homer, 3rd cent. [12.8] x 16.7 P.Oxy. 9.1167 Genesis, 4th cent. [12.4 x 16.6] P.Ant. 1.8 Proverbs, 3rd cent. [12 x 17] P.Barc. inv. 3 2 Chron., 3rd cent. [12 x 17/16] P.Lond.Lit. 202 Genesis, ca. 300 [13.5 x 17]19 The text on the vertical fibres () of the papyrus precedes that on the horizontal one (). If the codex was constructed with the vertical fibres on the outside (), which Turner labeled the normal order to organize sheets, especially in a single-quire codex,20 this piece belonged in the left part of a quire, before the center. These data do not allow us to decide whether this was a single- or multiple-quire codex. With this information, can we go beyond this single page to reconstruct the number of pages in the codex? In Rahlfss edition of the Septuagint, theof letters per line on the recto. Four lines would take up ca. 3.3 cm. Alternatively, the scribe omitted several words or worked from a Vorlage with a shorter text here. The apparatus in the Ziegler edition indicates several text critical problems in the transmission of verse 13. 15 The height of the page then is: (fragment 1) 6.7 cm + (fragment 2) 5.7 cm + 1.5 cm (upper margin) + ca. 2.5 (space of three lines) or ca. 3.3 (space of four lines)= ca. 16.4 to 17.2 cm. 16 Turner, Typology of the Early Codex, 85; L.W. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts (Grand Rapids 2006) 171-177. 17 See Hurtado, Earliest Christian Artifacts, 158: What may seem a modest-size codex compared to preferences of a later century was likely regarded in its own time as a standard-size item of its kind. Also ibid., 160. 18 Turner, Typology of the Early Codex, 22. Turner adds: not square i.e., range in B is similar but difference between B and H is 3 cm. or more. Fraenkel mistakenly classified the piece in Turner-Gruppe X, but that category refers to Turners square parchment codices (Verzeichnis, 382). 19 The first four examples come from Turner, who lists several more in this category Group 9, Aberrant 1 (Typology of the Early Codex, 22). I follow Turner in indicating reconstructed measurements within square brackets. For P.Lond.Lit. 202, I consulted Rahlfs-Fraenkel (nr. 953). 20 Turner, Typology of the Early Codex, 65 and overview on 58-60, Table 6.

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book of Isaiah has 28,804 words.21 Calculated for our codex at ca. 90 words per page, Isaiah would occupy some 320 pages or 80 bifolia. This estimate, however, would make for an unprecedentedly thick codex. By comparison, the Chester Beatty Isaiah codex had 224 pages/56 bifolia. But measuring 26.6 x 15.2 cm, its pages have much more writing surface than those of our codex.22 The Gospel of John with 16,576 words filled 154 pages in P.Bodmer II/P66 (12.4 x 16.2 cm).23 Let me offer two remarks here: Firstly, this page with Isa 23 probably fell close to the middle of the quire, where the pages were narrower. If so, on other pages, the number of words per page may have been larger, and therefore the codex may have had less than 320 pages. Secondly, these calculations exhibit the potential flaws in making reconstructions of whole codices from tiny fragments. In conclusion, these small fragments open a page in the history of the transmission of the book of Isaiah in the early church. While its popularity among early Christians is well-attested, we have only very few papyri of this important text. Among the few earliest written remains of the Greek translation of Isaiah, these two fragments show its textual transmission and physical production. While the section of text preserved in both fragments features no reading aids, several features seem to indicate a nod to the reader: the use of the apostrophe after Sabaoth, the number seventy written out in full, and perhaps the relatively short length of lines. The Text: Isa 23:4-7, 8-10, 10-13, 14-15 I present here the edition of the two papyri combined, collated with J. Ziegler (ed.), Isaias (Gttingen 1983) 200-203. Library of Congress 4082B 12.4 x 6.7 cm Princeton University, Garrett Deposit 1924, H.I. Bell, no. II 2G 5.0 x 5.7 cm Provenance unknown Third or early fourth century CE

24 The passage in the edition reads: , .

14 15 . Ziegler; A, 198 omit

Fragment 1 [ . [ , [ () [ [ <>. {} <> ] [] [ ] , four lines missing25

10

25 The edition has: , . , , .

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4 6 : Ziegler; : 51c-93 C 534 9-10 [ ]: Ziegler

Fragment 2 ] [. ] [ ] [ [ ] ] [ 18 of [ raised 15

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6. The papyrus reads (probably also in 1-2 []) with 106; Ziegler has . 6-7. : (aor. imp.) our text shares this reading with multiple other manuscripts, among them the Vaticanus (B) and Venetus (V); Ziegler: (pres. imp.). In his discussion of the translation and transmission of the Isaiah text, Ziegler gives an overview of changes between the present and aorist imperative of (Isaias, 98). He conjectures that the formal similarity between and initially caused changes, which led to more alteration (ibid., 99). 7. with B and V et pl. al.; Ziegler . On / , see Van der Kooij, Oracle of Tyre, 51-52. 14. The expression Lord Sabaoth occurs twice in these fragments, in 14 and again in 4. After the nomen sacrum the scribe wrote the of with a long, final stroke underneath in 14 it extends to five letters. Since 4 has an apostrophe after , presumably its counterpart in 14 (fragment 2) also had an apostrophe, but the papyrus is broken off and only traces of s lower part remain. Some Christian scribes wrote an apostrophe after non-inflected, in particular Hebrew, names. According to Eric Turner, one finds this in manuscripts from the third century after Christ onwards (Greek Manuscripts of the Ancient World, 2nd ed., 11). Other examples of this practice can be found in P.Yale 1.1 (Genesis; 2nd or 3rd cent.) and P.Bodmer II (Gospel of John, New Testament P66, 3rd cent.). In these and other cases, the apostrophe serves as a readers aid. The scribe did not write an apostrophe in two other cases in the papyrus with indeclinable Hebrew names, Sion and Canaan; these words already had recognizable endings for Greek speakers. 15. The scribe corrected the letters with two expunging dots and continued with [ ; then the fragment breaks off presumably it read . For other examples of deletion, see, e.g., B.M. Metzger, Manuscripts of the Greek Bible: An Introduction to Greek Palaeography (New York 1981) plates 7, 33, 37. The mistake may have been caused by parablepsis with the in verse 8, although that is hard to imagine since the context is so different. Or the copyist may have simply misread the letter of in the Vorlage as a , and realized the mistake only after writing the next letter. This is an interesting place to find a correction, because the manuscript tradition shows a variant here: Two manuscripts A (Codex Alexandrinus, a 5th cent. uncial manuscript) and 198 (Paris, Bibl. Nat., Gr. 14, a 9th cent. minuscule) leave out the word from this verse. This omission is perhaps due to a (failed) attempt to stay closer

A New Fragment of LXX Isaiah 23

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to the Hebrew, which does not combine all with pride, but takes all with glory (-), in translation: to defile the pride of all glory (NRSV). As Van der Kooij noted: As to it is to be observed that its placement in LXX (before the first noun) differs from MT (before the second noun) (Van der Kooij, Oracle of Tyre, 61). Our scribe may have worked from an exemplar in which the was added in the margin or above the text, perhaps in smaller letters, causing trouble in reading it. 18. The edition reads: , (Isa 23:10). On our page, the addition of the words would have made for a very long line. The scribe may have omitted one or more words, or perhaps crammed them in the margin. 6. <>: For omission of medial before various consonants, see F.T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods, Vol. 1 (Milan 1976) 103. 7. : According to Donovan, a superfluous iota, or perhaps the incomplete initial stroke of thetaconceivably from which in the finished text commences the next line (Donovan, Isaiah Fragment, 626). 8.Donovan deemed (Sion) inappropriate in context (Isaiah Fragment, 626) and Ziegler has . However, according to Van der Kooij, this reading [], which is attested by Hexaplaric and Lucianic manuscripts only, is to be regarded as secondary; the reading is the older one (Van der Kooij, Oracle of Tyre, 65, with reference to I.L. Seeligmann, The Septuagint Version of Isaiah: A Discussion of its Problems [Leiden 1948] 88). According to Zieglers apparatus, that is also the more common reading. , seventy, is written in full, not in numbers (), 17-18.[|] presumably to make reading out loud easier. In early Christian copies of the scriptures, however, numerical writing occurs more commonly, whereas in classical and Jewish manuscripts numbers are written in full (see Roberts, Manuscript, Society and Belief, 18-19; 23, n. 2; 78).

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 45-65

A Gymnasial Registration Report from Oxyrhynchus1

Uri Yiftach-Firanko Hebrew University

Abstract (Re)edition of PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134, a gymnasial registration report from Oxyrhynchus, issued sometime after 97/8 CE, for a resident of Herakleous Topoi whose father had been registered in Dromos Gymnasiou, where the examination of the residents credentials had taken place. Discussion of the gymnasial registration procedure. PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 consists of two fragments: the upper fragment is located in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana in Florence. It was purchased in Cairo in 1922 and published shortly afterwards, in 1925. The lower fragment was purchased by H.I. Bell in 1924 and was assigned by him to the University of Columbia, where it is now located in the Rare Books and Manuscripts Library. It has never been published. The two fragments join perfectly, around l. 17 of the Florentine text. The papyrus consists of three different documents which reflect the history of its use in antiquity. On the recto we find two different documents: on the left, the text published here, a report of the registration of Zenas son of Zenas as a member of the gymnasion of Oxyrhynchus with an account of the legal grounds for his admission. The report formed part of, or was copied from, a tomos synkollesimos. On the right we spot a perhaps related document, but only a few letters are preserved at the beginning of each line, so that its nature cannot be established with certainty.2 The verso contains a text from the late1 I would like to thank Professors R.S. Bagnall, D. Hagedorn, and A. Jrdens for proposing some of the readings in the text, Drs. R. Ast and J. Lougovoya for the conservation of P.Col. inv. 134, and Professor R. Pintaudi and Dr. S. Russo for placing at my disposal a picture of PSI 7.731. The present article was prepared in the course of the project Greek Law in Roman Times, sponsored by the Israel Science Foundation, and during a period of research as a fellow of the Alexander von Humboldt Stiftung at the Institut fr Papyrologie of the University of Heidelberg. 2 In l. 10 of the Florentine fragment we may read ([ ]| ?). In the Columbia fragment we read in l. 4 , in l. 6 , and in line 7 .

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second or early third century CE, reporting commodities, primarily oil, wine, and meat dispatched to different villages in the Oxyrhynchite nome.3 As the text on the verso spreads across the kollesis, its author may have glued two unrelated texts together as writing material. Alternatively, he may have used part of a tomos synkollesimos, dating back to the early second century when the texts on the recto were composed.4 Fortunately, that later user did not damage the text of the gymnasial registration report on the front. With the exception of the address, it is generally intact. The only substantial damage was probably caused by the early twentieth-century dealers who tore the papyrus into pieces and sold the upper part to the Italians and the rest to Bell. If they did the same with the lower section of the papyrus, we may hope to locate it in another collection in the future. PSI 7.731 [ 10 x 10 cm [ ] [ ] 5 () [] (?) , [] . 10 [] , () () 15 () - 95/6 CE (continued on page 48) The text consists of two columns, only the left of which is well-preserved: PSI 7.731.v.3-4: [ - - ] . . () []( ) ( ) | [ - - ] () () ( ) . P.Col. inv. 134.v.5-6 [ - - ] () () () () () | [ - - ] () () () () (). I thank Professors Amphilochios Papathomas and Fritz Mitthof for discussing with me the date of the papyrus. 4 Compare, e.g., W. Clarysse and K. Vandorpe, A Demotic Lease of Temple Land Reused in the Katochoi Archive (Louvre N 2328A), AncSoc 36 (2006) 1-11 at 4; D. Rathbone, Economic Rationalism and Rural Society in Third-Century A.D. Egypt (Cambridge 1991) 9-14; E.G. Turner, Greek Papyri: An Introduction (Oxford 19802) 53.3

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Quarter of Herakleous Topoi. To [ - - ] and Athenaios alias Apollonios, bibiliophylakes, from Zenas son of Zenas, grandson of Heras, my mother being Areia, daughter of Hypatikos (?), resident of the city of Oxyrhynchus, of the quarter Herakleous Topoi. In accordance with the ordinance concerning scrutinizing those joining the gymnasial class, whether they are of this stock, I report that in the 15th year of Domitian I myself have joined within the gymnasion the group of those who entered their thirteenth year of life, and that in the same year I was delivered for scrutiny (continued on page 49)

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among the group of those who entered their thirteenth year of life in the quarter Dromos Gymnasiou wherefore I, having presented myself for my own scrutiny, report that my aforementioned father is Zenas son of Heras, grandson of Zenas, of the same city, (who) when he was still alive was registered in the 5th year of the deified Vespasian at the (quarter) Dromos Gymnasiou in the list placed on record by Sutorius Sosibios, ex-strategos, and Nikandros, former basilikos grammateus, and the others, of the hereditary members of the gymnasion (or: those admitted from the gymnasion)in the same quarter, in the class of those scrutinized by the military tribune Curtius Paulinus 1 As is occasionally the case in tomoi synkollesimoi, above the text we find, according to my proposed restoration, an account of the amphodon the reports stemmed from: the amphodon . For this amphodon see H. Rink, Strassen- und Viertelnamen von Oxyrhynchus (Gieen 1924) 41; Diz. geogr. 2:225, Suppl. 1:129. The same is reported as Zenas domicile in ll. 8-9 of the same papyrus. We would expect the mention of the amphodon to be preceded by the kollema number, as is the case in the tomos synkollesimos P.Oxy. 46.3276-3283 (148/9 CE) and in the metropolitan report P.Oxy. 7.1028. But the amphodon alone is mentioned in P.Oxy. 67.4584 (100/1 CE). 2-4 In what seems the closest parallel to our text, P.Oxy. 4.714, the bibliophylakes appear in the board with the strategos, the basilikos grammateus, and the grammateus poleos. Some of these officials were probably reported in the preceding lines. On a rough estimate of 23 letters a line we may assume a lacuna of roughly 46 letters, if the address clause began in line two. This is about the space taken in P.Oxy. 4.714 by the names of the strategos, the basilikos grammateus, and the first bibliophylax. Since all we know is that the present document was issued roughly within a generation following 97/8 CE (see infra, p. 63), it seems futile to attempt a restoration. The bibliophylax Athenaios alias Apollonios is not attested as a holder of this liturgy in any other papyrus. Another possibility, though a less likely one, is that Athenaios acted as bibliophylax alone. This is the case, for example, in P.Oxy. 47.3332 (53 CE; Oxyrhynchus) as well as in SB 22.15731 (324 CE (?); Oxyrhynchus), which records a single bibliophylax demosion logon. Cf. N. Lewis, Compulsory Public Services in Roman Egypt (Florence 19972) 17 and P.J. Sijpesteijn and K.A. Worp, Ein Hausverkauf aus Soknopaiu Nesos (P. Lond. Inv. 1976), in R. Feenstra (ed.), Collatio iuris romani (Amsterdam 1995) 513-532 at 526-532. Sijpesteijn-Worp list Athenaios among the (p. 529). In case there was only one bibliophylax we should read () in l. 5 of our text. On the board see Kruse (below, n. 16) 252-253 and Nelson (below, n. 16) 17.

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6-7 According to B.W. Jones and J.E.G. Whitehorne, Register of Oxyrhynchites 30 B.C.-A.D. 96 (Chico 1983) #5297, our Zenas (II in the chart below), son of Zenas (I) and Areia, paternal grandson of Heras (II), is recorded in yet another papyrus, P.Erl. 44 (II; Oxyrhynchite nome), as an obtainer of wheat in the village of Antipras. The same papyrus also reports his father Zenas (I) (Register #5298). In the second-century CE marriage document PSI 5.450.1.23-24 Heras alias Gai<o>s, acting as the parties gnoster, features the same parents and grandfather. Heras alias Gaios is attested again in the will P.Oxy. 1.105 (118-138 CE; Oxyrhynchus), this time as a witness (l. 18). He is in all likelihood Zenas (II)s brother (Register #2247). In addition, in the apographe P.Oxy. 3.481 (99 CE; Oxyrhynchus) we find a certain Heras (III), perhaps son of the by then late Heras (II), his grandfather being Heras (I) and his grandmother Tnepheros5 (Register #2245). If he is Zenas (II)s paternal uncle, we would get the following family tree (I mark in italics those whose affiliation to the family is unertain): Heras I Tnepheros Heras II Heras III Hypatikos (?) Zenas I Areia Heras alias Gaios Zenas II

7 The name Hypatikos is a papyrological hapax legomenon. The feminine form Hypatike is perhaps attested in SEG 38.49 (i) (late I CE/mid II CE; Athens). 12 For for , cf., e.g., PSI 5, p. 31 ad 457.4, and F.T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods 1 (Milan 1976) 239. 15 : corrected from in the PSI edition.5 On the pattern of men exhibiting Greek and their female relatives Egyptian traits, see P. van Minnen, : Greek Women and the Greek Elite in the Metropoleis of Roman Egypt, in H. Melaerts and L. Mooren (eds.), Le rle et le statut de la femme en gypte hellnistique, romaine et byzantine (Leuven 2002) 337-353 at 350-351.

22 The reading of the indicative form ( ) (note the augment) is only possible if we assume a subordinate, most economically a relative clause. Upon this assumption I have added the relative pronoun . The medial form is most common with the direct object, as in census declarations (BGU 1.54.4 [161 CE; Karanis]: ), and others (P.Mich. 9.543.4-5 [135/6 CE; Karanis], declaration of camels: ). Perhaps we should connect in the present text the () in l. 22 with what may be restored as the reflexive pronoun [] in l 31. The medial form is also attested without a direct object, meaning having myself registered; cf., e.g., P.Ryl. 2.103.7-8 (134 CE; Ptolemais Euergetis). The passive aorist is most commonly used in a concluding note at the end of declarations of animals, frequently camels, with the official responsible for the act of registration in the dative (cf., e.g., BGU 1.52.16 [145 CE; Soknopaiou Nesos]). This form may also, however, be used for persons, and outside the said clause. Cf., e.g., BGU 1.109.13, 19 (121 CE; Arsinoite nome); P.Fay. 27.18 (175 CE; Euhemereia). 23 The word is rarely omitted in this context. Cf. P.Oxy. 3.574.11 (II CE; Oxyrhynchus). 26 On the use of the verb in connection with the epikrisis procedure, cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 4.714.37-38 (122 CE; Oxyrhynchus): () (), () (). See also P.Oxy. 3.478.49-50 (133 CE; Oxyrhynchus); P.Oxy. 4.714.37-38 (122 CE; Oxyrhynchus). 29 A filler stroke at the end of the line. 30-31 Read . On the replacement of iota by eta before another vowel, see F.T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods 1 (Milan 1976) 239-242. Discussion Fifty-six papyri from Oxyhrynchus concern a persons admission into a privileged status group. Fifteen relate to admission into the citys citizen body; another twenty to admission into the local gymnasion; the rest to admission into the gerousia or to a persons status as klerouchos, priest, Roman citizen, or receiver of the corn dole.6 The two largest groups share many features in com6 Metropolitan registration reports: P.Oxy. 2.258 (86/7 CE); 3.478 (132 CE); 4.714 (122 CE); 7.1028 (86 CE); 8.1109 (160/1 CE); 12.1452 (127/8 CE); 67.4584 (100/1 CE);

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mon. Both emerge in the last quarter of the first century CE and disappear by the end of the third.7 Both are directed to the same officials: in the first and early second century a board headed by the strategos and the basilikos grammateus, in the third century members of the city council. In both cases the report is usually submitted when the new member becomes , i.e. after he has reached the age of twelve8 or, in the third century, thirteen,9 and is usually authored by his next-of-kin, most commonly his father. The structure of the two reports is quite similar as well: in both cases, the document opens with an address to the officials in charge. The address contains a detailed account of the authors name, the names of his parents and grandfathers, and his domicile in Oxyrhynchus. Then, following a reference to the ordinance by virtue of which the report is made, we find a record of the candidates registration with an account of the in which it took

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place.10 A third clause reports why the candidate should be admitted into the privileged status group: in both types of report the status has to be shared by his male ancestors, and the clause reports the acts by which they attained it.11 In both cases the author of the report takes, in a fourth clause, an oath by the ruling emperor.12 A fifth clause indicates the date on which the report was submitted. The document ends with the authors hypographe.13 There are also some differences between the two types of reports. Both take recourse to the ordinance which triggered the report, but the ordinance is not the same. The author of the metropolitan report relies on the ordinance regarding the scrutiny of those who entered their thirteenth year of life, if both their parents are metropolitans and pay a reduced tax rate of twelve drachms.14 In the case of the gymnasion, it is the ordinance regarding the scrutiny of those becoming members of the gymnasion, if both their parents belong to this very population category.15 The stated consequences are also quite different. In the Roman period a regular unprivileged inhabitant of the Oxyrhynchite nome (free and slave alike) paid a poll-tax of 16 drachmas a year.16 As indicated in the relevant reports, See the next paragraph. Mostly introduced by the formula . Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 18.2186.3-10 (260 CE; gymnasion); P.Oxy. 8.1109.10-15 (160/1 CE; metropolitan). 12 Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 18.2186.10-11 (260 CE; gymnasion); P.Wisc. 1.17.r.24-28 (II CE; metropolitan) 13 Date clauses and hypographai in, e.g., in the gymnasial report PSI 5.457.21-22 (date clause), 22-25 (hypographai), and in the metropolitan report P.Wisc. 1.17.28-32 (date clause), 33-38 (hypographe). An account of the , at the end of the document, seems to be unique to applications for admission into the gymnasion and is quite late. Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 18.2186.13-14 (260 CE), and P.J. Sijpesteijn, Some Remarks on the Epicrisis of in Oxyrhynchus, BASP 13 (1976) 181-190 at 188-189. 14 . Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 12.1452.1.68. 15 . Cf. P.Oxy. 12.1452.2.33-35. P. Mertens, Les services de ltat civil et le contrle de la population Oxyrhynchus au IIIe sicle de notre re (Brussels 1958) 125. 16 A.K. Bowman and D. Rathbone, Cities and Administration in Roman Egypt, JRS 82 (1992) 107-127 at 112-113; Th. Kruse, Der knigliche Schreiber und die Gauverwaltung (Munich-Leipzig 2002) 1:64-66; Mertens (n. 15) 111; C.A. Nelson, Status Declarations in Roman Egypt (Amsterdam 1979) 22; D. Rathbone, Egypt, Augustus and Roman Taxation, Cahiers du Centre G. Glotz 4 (1993) 81-112 at 87, n. 17; S.H. Wallace, Taxation in Egypt from Augustus to Diocletian (Princeton 1938) 126-127.10 11

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the citizens of Oxyrhynchus were subject to a reduced rate of 12 drachmas, which rate was shared by their children and slaves when they became liable to pay the tax at age thirteen.17 Yet to pay the reduced rate the children and the slaves had first to be acknowledged as metropolitai, following the procedure documented in the report. Fiscal privileges are not mentioned in the gymnasial reports, where the sole declared object of the procedure is the admission into the gymnasion. Such admission is granted to free-born children only, not to slaves, so here only the former appear as an object of the report.18 The identity of the author of the report is different as well. Fathers are expected to undertake their sons admission into the gymnasion and the citys citizen body alike. But if the father is dead or absent, the task will not be assumed by the same person in both procedures: in the case of the metropolitan procedure, in the absence of the father the report is issued by the new citizens mother; only if she is absent as well will it be issued by another relative. The mother seems to be excluded, on the other hand, from the gymnasial procedure. If there is no father, the report will be issued by another male relative, guardian or friend.19 In both cases, the author of the report (usually parent or owner), substantiates the claim by showing that the boys ancestors belonged to the same status An account relating to the epikrisis of slaves in, e.g., P.Oxy. 4.714.21-27. An account relating to a freeborn son in, e.g., P.Oxy. 2.258.15-23. Cf. Kruse (n. 16) 1:253; J.Mlze-Modrzejewski, Entre la cit et le fisc: le statut grec dans lgypte romaine, in Symposion 1982 (Cologne and Vienna 1989) 241-280, reprinted with addenda in J. Mlze-Modrzejewski, Droit imprial et traditions locales dans lgypte romaine (Aldershot 1990) article II, at 276-277; Mertens (n. 15) 110. 18 See n. 15. The epikrisis reports do not reveal what were the benefits in joining the gymnasial class. Different explanations are proposed by Mlze-Modrzejewski (n. 17) 263; Bowman-Rathbone (n. 16) 121; S.Bussi, Selezione di lites nellEgitto romano: ed tra I e III secolo d.C., Laverna 14 (2003) 146-166 at 147; G. Ruffini, Genealogy and the Gymnasium, BASP 43 (2006) 71-99 at 74-75, and others. 19 Reports regarding the admission in to the gymnasion are authored by the candidates father in 9 to 11 cases (P.Oxy. 2.257; 10.1266; 18.2186; 22.2345; 46.3276; 3277; 3278; 3279; 3280 (?); 3281 (?); 3283), by his uncle in 2 (P.Oxy. 12.1452b; PSI 5.457), by the candidate himself in 2 (P.Oxy. 46.3282; PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134), by his brother and guardian in 1 each (P.Turner 38 and P.Mich. 14.676 respectively), while 3 cases remain unclear (P.Erl. 23; P.Mil.Congr. XIV, p. 29; P.Oxy. 46.3284). In the case of the metropolitan procedure, the father authors the report in 5 cases (P.Oxy. 2.258; 8.1109; P.Wisc. 1.17; SB 22.15211; 15626), in 2 it is issued by the mother (P.Oxy. 3.487; 7.1028), and in 1 each by the uncle (P.Oxy. 12.1452a) and a family friend (P.Oxy. 67.4585). There is also 1 case where the report may have been issued by the candidates brother (SB 22.15210). In 5 cases the candidates are slaves and the report is authored by their owners (P.Oxy. 4.714; 67.4584; PSI 7.732; 12.1230; WChr 217). See Nelson (n. 16) 17.17

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group. Still, in the case of the metropolitan report it is sufficient to show that the metropolitan status was shared by the boys father and maternal grandfather20 or, if the report relates to a slave, to document the metropolitan status of his owner.21 In reports relating to an admission into the gymnasion, on the other hand, the author was expected to report all his male ancestors, matrilineal and patrilineal alike, who ever belonged to this class since its creation in the 34th year of Augustus. The author of one third-century report relates the gymnasial status of no less than thirteen of his family members.22 In both cases the author of the report needs to show how and when his ancestors were granted their privileged status, but the evidence adduced differs in each case. In the case of metropolitan procedure one commonly reports a tax list ( ) that was issued in one of Oxyrhynchus quarters and gave evidence of the ancestors position as a payer of the poll-tax at a reduced rate.23 The document mentioned also does not have to be the one by which the ancestor first attained his privileged position. In the case of the gymnasial procedure, on the other hand, the reference is to the admission procedure of the forefathers themselves, which from 72/3 CE to the early third century took place when they entered their thirteenth year of life.24 In gymnasial reports, the abundant information on past admissions of the new members ancestors sheds light on the evolution of the procedure. The accounts report different dates of admissions, presumably the dates in which each ancestor reached the age of twelve and consequently became eligible for admission into the gymnasion. But there is one exception: each and every ac Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 8.1109.10-16. Cf., e.g., PSI 7.732.12-14. 22 In P.Oxy. 18.2186 (260 CE) the father of the candidate reports twelve admissions, going back on the fathers side seven generations to an ancestor recorded in the list of Augustus. On the mothers side it goes back six generations to an ancestor recorded in 72/3 CE. Equally remarkable are the cases of P.Mich. 14.676 (272 CE, 12 admissions, 6 on each side) and PSI 5.457 (269 CE, 8 admissions, all on the fathers side). Cf. Bowman-Rathbone (n. 16) 121; S. Bussi, Le lites locali nella provincia dEgitto di prima et imperiale (Milan 2008) 25; Mertens (n. 15) 117; Mlze-Modrzejewski (n. 17) 261; van Minnen (n. 5) 339, 340; Nelson (n. 16) 28. 23 Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 3.478.22-23 and Kruse (n. 16) 1:253, n. 588; Mertens (n. 15) 106107; Nelson (n. 16) 18. 24 As illustrated by P.Oxy. 12.1452.1 and 2 (127/8 CE), two reports relating to the acknowledgement of the same child as a metropolitan and as a member of the gymnasion respectively. In the latter instance, a recourse is made to the fathers admission in 99/100 CE, presumably when he himself reached the age of twelve. For the matropolitan procedure the evidence adduced is that of the fathers issued in 123/4 CE, i.e. just four years before the present document. Mertens (n. 15) 106, 127-128.20 21

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count reports an epikrisis undertaken for one of the candidates forefathers by the strategos Sutorius Sosibios and, in most cases, the basilikos grammateus Nikandros in the fifth year of Vespasian (72/3 CE).25 It is improbable that all the ancestors of that generation became twelve in the same year. Rather, the act initiated by Sosibios and Nikandros was probably a general epikrisis of all the contemporary members of the gymnasion regardless of their age.26 In the course of that Vespasianic act every member had to prove his gymnasial status. For that purpose some reported that one of their ancestors was registered in a graphe compiled in the 34th year of Augustus; others reverted to the class ( or ) of those recorded by the tribunus militum Curtius Paulinus in the course of Neros fifth, sixth, or seventh year (58/9-60/1 CE),27 but none of those recorded in the act of 72/3 CE based his status on the registration of the same forefather in both the Augustan and Neronian acts.28 In25 Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 46.3276.9-16: [] [] () [] [] () [] [)) ]() [] [ ] [ ] [ [] [] ] [ ] [ ] [ ] () ()). Some documents record the general epikrisis but do not mention Sosibios and Nikandros by name: see, e.g. P.Turner 38.8-10. In one case, P.Oxy. 10.1266.2 the basilikos grammateus in charge is not Nikandros but Pamphilos, indicating perhaps that the revision took several months. Cf. Kruse (n. 16) 2:1016, n. 267; Whitehorne, Str.R.Scr.2, pp. 92, 160. 26 On the general epikrisis see Kruse (n. 16) 1:257; Mertens (n. 15) 120; O. Montevecchi, Lepikrisis dei Greco-Egizi, in Proceedings of the XIV International Congress of Papyrologists (London 1975) 227-232 at 229-230; Nelson (n. 15) 28; Sijpesteijn (n. 13) 182-183. It is assumed that the initiative was taken by the governor of Egypt, and that the local strategos and basilikos grammateus merely carried out the operation. Similar measures, for other privileged groups and in other nomes, are mentioned by Kruse (n. 16) 1:259; van Minnen (n. 5) 346; Montevecchi, op.cit.; J.E.G. Whitehorne, The Ephebate and the Gymnasial Class in Roman Egypt, BASP 19 (1982) 171-184 at 182. 27 P.Mich. 14.676.10-12, P.Oxy. 46.3279.19-21: ; PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134.2930, P.Oxy. 10.1266.25-27: . Mistaken, and based on older interpretation, is Mertens (n. 15, p. 118) and Nelsons (n. 16, p. 28) identification of the taxis with the list of 72/3 itself. Cf. Mlze-Modrzejewski (n. 17) 277, n. 141; Sijpesteijn (n. 13) 184. 28 An account of the Vespasianic and the Augustan registrations in P.Mich. 14.676 (patrilineal); P.Mil.Congr. XIV, p. 29 (matrinileal); P.Oxy. 2.257 (patrilineal and matrilineal); 10.1266 (patrilineal); 12.1452.2 (the parents are siblings); 18.2186 (patrilineal); 46.3276 (patrilineal); 3283 (patrilineal); PSI 5.457 (patrilineal). The Vespasianic and Neronian registrations in P.Oxy. 10.1266 (matrilineal); 46.3279 (patrilineal); PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 (patrilineal). In several documents we find an account of the Vespasianic act while the rest is lost: P.Oxy. 18.2186 (matrilineal); 22.2345 (matrilineal);

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addition, no gymnasial report ever records any admission prior to 72/3 CE beside those ensuing from the Augustan and Neronian acts. All this is best explained in the following manner. The gymnasial class of Oxyrhynchus was created in the 34th year of Augustus (4/5 CE).29 Those admitted into its body were recorded in a list, graphe, issued at that date. The offspring of the members of the initial group did not have to be admitted into the gymnasion in person. As needed, they would prove their gymnasial status by pointing out the name of their ancestor who was recorded in the Augustan graphe, and by proving that they are really his descendants.30 This may serve as an explanation for the absence of any document recording an admission into the gymnasion from the Julio-Claudian period.31 New members were admitted into the gymnasion by Curtius Paulinus in the time of Nero.32 Then, in 72/3 CE, Sosibios and Nikandros conducted a third, general survey: everyone who could prove that his ancestors had been recorded in one of the above two lists was registered in a new one. If he could not, he was probably excluded from the gymnasion. From now on, new applicants had to prove that one of their forefathers has been registered in the Vespasianic list and give the grounds (i.e. an inclusion in the Augustan or Neronian lists)46.3277 (patrilineal); 3278 (patrilineal); 3282 (patrilineal). An account of the Vespasianic act without further reference to the earlier ones is made in one document only: P.Turner 38. See also Ruffini (n. 18) 75-76. I do not believe that Sosibios and Nikandros added new members besides the descendants of those recorded in the Augustan and the Neronian lists. 29 Kruse (n. 16) 1:257; Mertens (n. 15) 121; Montevecchi (n. 26) 229. On the coincidence of the act with a general census, see R.S. Bagnall and B.W.Frier, The Demography of Roman Egypt (Cambridge 1994) 4-5. On the earlier history of the gymnasia, see W.Habermann, Gymnasien im ptolemischen gypten eine Skizze, in D. Kah and P.Scholz (eds.), Das hellenistische Gymnasion (Berlin 2004) 335-348. 30 Late first-century applicants still base their claim on marriage documents and census declarations of their ancestors a practice that could go back perhaps to the period before 72/3 CE. See P.Oxy. 2.257.24-31 (94/5 CE); 10.1266.15-20 (98 CE). This practice disappears in the second century. See adetailed discussion in P.Mich. 14, p. 15. 31 The absence of routine, individual registration is exemplified by PSI 5.457 (269 CE), which reports the inclusion of Origenes son of Asklepiades (I), the earliest ancestor, in the list of Augustus (ll. 9-10). The document then omits any reference to an admission of Asklepiades (II) his son, and records that of his grand-son Origenes in general epikrisis of the fifth year of Vespasian (ll. 7-9). Then it gives account of the admission of all following six generations down to that of the present candidate, two centuries later. In all probability, Asklepiades II was never formally admitted into the gymnasion nor was any of his contemporaries. 32 Supra, n. 28. Contra Kruse (n. 16) 1:257 and Mlze-Modrzejewski (n. 17) 264, who maintain that the Neronian act consisted of a revision of the Augustan list.

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upon which the Vespasianic registration was made. Sosibios and Nikandros then took a further step. In the future, every son of a gymnasial couple had to be admitted into the gymnasion in person upon entering his thirteenth year of life.33 This is the procedure recounted in reports of the type of PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134. The report shows two stages. First, the boy is registered in one of the city amphoda.34 Then, usually in the same year or the year that follows, one of the childs relatives, usually his father, issues a report to the nomes strategos, the basilikos grammateus, the grammateus poleos, and the bibliophylakes in charge of the bibliotheke demosion logon,35 relating when and in which amphodon the registration took place. This report sets in motion the epikrisis: the heads of the nomes administration examine if the evidence presented by the applicant to back his claims matches the information at their disposal, primarily that located in the bibliothekes files.36 It also stands to reason that both the registration in the city amphodon and the epikrisis by the nome officials had some bearings According to van Minnen (n. 5) 346 this was also the occasion on which membership in the gymnasion was restricted to those with two gymnasial parents. The admission procedure of the metropolitans was probably created on the same occasion: see van Minnen (n. 5) 341; O.Montevecchi, Nerone a una polis e ai 6475, Aegyptus 50 (1970) 5-33 at 26-28; ead., Tre richieste di epikrisis, Aegyptus 73 (1993) 39-48 at 40. Ruffini (n. 18) 77 and Mertens (n. 15) 110 leave the question unanswered. 34 Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 46.3279.7-11 (148/9 CE): [ ][] [ . . . . . ] [] [ ()] () [ ] . On the administrative competences and function of the amphoda see P.Jouguet, La vie muncipale dans lgypte romaine (Paris 1911) 282-292; Mertens (n. 15) 104-105, 115. A new study is required. 35 In P.Oxy. 12.1452.2 (127/8 CE) the application is addressed to the strategos, the basilikos grammateus, and those in charge of the epikrisis. In two other documents, P.Erl. 23 (II CE) and the papyrus edited here, the appeal is made to the bibliophylakes, generally taken as those in charge of the bibliotheke demosion logon. But both papyri are damaged, and may have also been addressed also to the strategos, the basilikos grammateus, and others. Compare the applications for the attainment of the metropolitan status P.Oxy. 7.1028 (86 CE) and P.Oxy. 4.714 (122 CE) that are addressed, besides the abovementioned officials, also to the grammateus poleos, and in the case of P.Oxy. 7.714 to an ex-gymnasiarch. In the latter text the bibliophylakes assume the title of epikritai, a title which is otherwise unattested in Oxyrhynchite papyri before the late third century, but seems to have been common in the Arsinoite nome: see, e.g. P.Ryl. 2.103 (134 CE; Ptolemais Euergetis). Cf. also Kruse (n. 16) 1:254-255, 259; Mertens (n. 15) 113-114; Nelson (n. 16) 27. 36 Comp. Kruse (n. 16) 1:264 and 2:805-811. Compare also, on census declarations, Bagnall-Frier (n. 29) 19-20.33

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on the candidates gymnasial status. But what were the exact bearings of each of the two acts? Did the candidate become a full member of the gymnasion after the registration in the amphodon or only after the epikrisis? This question becomes especially pertinent in cases, such as the papyrus edited here, where the two acts were several years, perhaps several decades apart. PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 exhibits many features that are found in other reports. The document begins, according to the restoration proposed in l. 1, with the amphodon in which the report was served ( ), which is best explained if the document was pasted in a tomos synkollesimos with other reports, arranged by their amphoda of origin.37 The body of the report opens with the address (ll. 2-9), reporting the names and titles of the addressee(s) in the dative and introducing by the preposition the name of the author of the report, his father, his mother, and his two grandfathers in the genitive, as well as his domicile. There are several addressees, but since the address is largely lost, we know for sure the identity of just one: the elsewhere unattested bibliophylax Athenaios alias Apollodoros.38 The following clauses are along the lines of the routine scheme: (ll. 9-17) the report of the candidates registration and the amphodon in which it took place; (ll. 18-31) the evidentiary basis upon which the addressee should undertake the epikrisis; an account of past admissions of the candidates ancestors with the amphoda in which they were registered. In our document we find reference to the registration of the members father by Sosibios and Nikandros in 72/3 CE, as well as to the one by the tribunus militum Curtius Paulinus in the days of Nero. The lower, lost part of the document probably reported how and when his mothers male ancestors were admitted into the gymnasion, and included, in addition, an oath and date clause, and possibly also the authors hypographe.39 But the text also exhibits some peculiarities. One is found in the formula reporting the ordinance that triggered the submission of the report. In most reports we find a construction with the nomen actionis: . In the second century, this is always the case both in reports relating to the admission into the gymnasion and in those37 We possess a relatively extensive part of such a tomos synkollesimos (with 12-13 applications) dating to 148/9 CE (P.Oxy. 46.3276-3284). Such notes are also attested on applications for acknowledgement as metropolitans: P.Oxy. 7.1028 (86 CE); 67.4584 (100/1 CE). Cf., in general, W.Clarysse, Tomoi Synkollesimoi, in M. Brosius (ed.), Ancient Archives and Archival Traditions (Oxford 2003) 344-359 and Ruffini (n. 18) 78-79. 38 Cf. F. Burkhalter, Archives locales et archives centrales en gypte romaine, Chiron 20 (1990) 191-215 at 193. 39 Cf. supra, p. 53.

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concerning the acknowledgment of ones status as a metropolitan.40 In our text, on the other hand, one finds the nominal infinitive: . The account of the registration is also unique. In second century reports the formulation is simple and straightforward: (or ) .41 In our text, on the other hand, we read (ll. 14-17) () () () () [ ] . The verb (to make a report, LSJ9 s.v. II.2), is commonly used in reports made by commissioners conducting examination on behalf of a state official to whom they report back their findings.42 Its use in an epikrisis report, or in any other type of reports by private persons, is rare.43 The use of the passive voice of is unprecedented in this context, and is extremely rare in papyri and other contemporary sources with a person as the object of the act.44 The evidentiary clause the clause that reports how the members ancestors were admitted into the gymnasion in the past is quite normally structured: . It also contains the routine pieces of information: a reference to the registration of the members father in the 5th year of Vespasian with a further note of his inclusion in the taxis of those admitted by Curtius Paulinus in the days of Nero.45 But then some of the syntax and terminology is quite odd. The formulation (ll. 19-22) [ ] () () (I report that my aforementioned father is Zenas son of Heras son of Zenas, of the same city ) is not attested in any other report. As for the terminology, gymnasial reports mention three first-century enrollment I.e., in 25 of the 27 extant reports. Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 67.4584.7-8 (100/1 CE). Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 18.2186.2-3 (gymnasial); PSI 12.1230.2-6 (metropolitan). 42 Its most current use is as, according to H.G. Gundel following F. Krebs (Einige Giessener Saatquittungen, CdE 47, 1972, 204-216 at 214): Terminus technicus fr offizielle von der Regierung amtlich eingeforderte Erklrung, die meist unter dem Eide geschehen ist. See also F. Preisigke, Fachwrter des ffentlichen Verwaltungsdienstes gyptens in den griechischen Papyrusurkunden der ptolemisch-rmischen Zeit (Gttingen 1915) 153; P.Meyer, pp. 18-27; U. Wilcken, Neue Nachtrge zu P.Lond. II, APF 3 (1903) 232-246 at 237. 43 The verb is also used in P.Oxy. 7.1028, one of the earliest metropolitan admission reports, dating to 86 CE. 44 This rendering is not recorded in Lampe, Patristic Greek Lexicon s.v., or in LSJ9 s.v. Preisigkes WB reports just one such case, the Byzantine P.Cair.Masp. 3.67340.v.26 (VI CE; Antinoopolis). 45 Cf. supra, n. 27.40 41

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acts: one in the 34th year of Augustus, another in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th years of Nero, and a third in the 5th year of Vespasian. As a rule, different terminology is used for the designation of each: the term graphe is kept for the Augustan list; the Vespasianic act is termed epikrisis; those who enrolled in the time of Nero are said to be / . This terminological distinction is maintained in PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 with regard to the Neronian group, which is termed taxis. The Vespasianic act, however, is here called graphe, i.e. the name that is usually kept for the act of Augustus, and not epikrisis.46 In addition, if my reading at the end of l. 23 is correct, the applicant uses to denote the act of registration the medial aorist of , and not or , as is commonly the case.47 Another unicum appears in l. 28. According to a reading kindly proposed to me by Prof. D. Hagedorn, the list created by Sosibios and Nikandros is reported to consist [] []. The adjective does not appear in other gymnasial registration reports from Oxyrhynchus, but it does appear in lists recording Egyptian priests, some of which are designated as , an expression translated in editions as hereditary priests.48 This is a likely translation in our context also: hereditary members of the gymnasion. Yet the adjective may also have a sense closer to that of the verb ( = admit) and the noun ( = admission, register) it derives from: those admitted from the gymnasion,49 meaning, literally, that Sosibios and Nikandros drew in their general survey of 72/3 CE on the internal lists of the Oxyrhynchite gymnasion. How can we explain these oddities? Some are attested in the few extant reports from the late first century CE. The formulation 46 Still, may denote any kind of list, inter alia lists of population groups, e.g.: (P.Oxy. 65.4489.13 [297 CE, Oxyrhynchus]), (e.g., SB 6.9335 = P.Bacch. 1.6 [184-192 CE, Bacchias]). As such it is not surprising to find it relating to the Vespasianic record. Also not referring to the Augustan act is P.Oxy. 46.3283.17-18: () () . Cf. also Kruse (n. 16) 1:258. 47 Cf. P.Oxy. 2.257.16 (); 18.2186.7 (). 48 Cf., e.g., P.Tebt. 2, p. 90 ad 302. 49 See : LSJ9 s.v. I 3; Preisigke, WB 2, pp. 239-240 s.v. 1d. : LSJ9 s.v. II b; Preisigke, WB 2, p. 241 s.v. 2. This would fit well with the usage of both the noun and the verb in P.Flor. 1.79 = WChr 145, an application for admission into the ephebate from 60 CE from Hermopolis, ll. 9-12: [] [] [] () [ ] [] [] [] , ll. 24-25: . Cf. also later evidence: P.Fam.Tebt. 32.9 (146-161 CE; Antinoopolis): ephebes; P.Oxy. 40.2908.34,35 (270/1 CE; Oxyrhynchos): sitoumenoi.

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. appears in the metropolitan report P.Oxy. 7.1028 (86 CE)50 and so does the verb . It is therefore quite possible that the author of our report simply employed an alternative scheme that went out of use in the course of the early second century. This may also be the case with the expression , which can perhaps also be read in line 12 of the contemporaneous P.Oxy. 10.1266 (98 CE).51 This possible allusion to the gymnasion internal files as the source of the official register fits well with the practice, common in first century reports only, to designate the position of the candidates ancestors within the gymnasions apparatus.52 Still, one may consider also a different, not necessarily conflicting explanation. In most reports, the registration is said to have taken place in the same () or the former () year.53 There are only two exceptions to this rule. In P.Oxy. 46.3282 the report is submitted in the 12th year of Antoninus Pius (148/9 CE), while the act of registration itself was performed twentyone years earlier, in the 12th year of Hadrian (127/8 CE). Quite naturally, the year or registration is not labeled as present or former. PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 is the second case. As the date clause is lost, we do not know when the Cf. Nelson (n. 16) 27. The editio princeps reads in lines 11-12: [][ [ . . . . . I propose in line 12 (?). I thank Professor D. Obbink for placing a digital image of the papyrus at my disposal. Cf. also van Minnen (n. 5) 346, n. 22. 52 In P.Oxy. 2.257 (94/5 CE) the father of the candidate bases the act of registration (ll. 19-22) on the fact that his own fathers father, Theogenes, son of Philoskos, was registered as the son of a gymnasiarch in the gymnasial list of year 4/5 CE ( [] [] [] [] () ). In P.Oxy. 10.1266 (98 CE) it is reported that the father of the candidate, who was recorded in the general epikrsis of Vespasian, was a guard of the palaestra ( ). Such an account is absent from later applications, which simply report the inclusion of the ancestors in the Vespasianic, Neronian, or Augustan lists. On the palaistrophylax see P. van Minnen, Eine Steuerliste aus Hermopolis, Tyche 6 (1991) 121-129 at 125: Der war ein im stdtischen Gymnasium angestellter Wchter. Van Minnen later (n. 5) 346-347 raised doubts as to whether the designation as palaistraphylax necessarily implies that he was a member of the gymnasion. The inclination to record the position within the gymnasion reflects a stage in which, according to van Minnen (n. 5) 342, applications for the gymnasial order were submitted to the gymnasium officials. Cf., for similar developments in Hermopolis, Whitehorne (n. 26) 182-183. 53 As is the case, for example, in the documents of the tomos synkollesimos P.Oxy. 46.3276-3284 (148/9 CE). Cf., e.g., P.Oxy. 46.3279.9-11: [ () () [ ] .50 51

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report was issued. We are merely able to establish a post quem: the author of the report declares that he was admitted into the gymnasion in the 15th year of the emperor Domitian. Since this year is not labeled as former or present (95/6 CE), any date from 97/8 CE onwards would be an option. This is not the only feature that the two documents share in common. If the report is made immediately after the member came of age, it is submitted by a different person: in the case of the gymnasial procedure by his father or, in his absent, by another male relative or guardian.54 P.Oxy. 46.3282 and PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 are exceptional in this respect also; in both cases the report is submitted by the member himself.55 The two peculiarities are of course interrelated: in both cases the report was served several years after the registration in the amphodon and the member, now a grownup, was able to submit it in person. This exceptional state of things may account for a third peculiarity of our document. Gymnasial registration reports always note the amphodon (quarter) in which the member was registered.56 In some cases they also report the amphodon in which the author of the report lived. A third reference to an amphodon may be made when the report was incorporated in a tomos synkollesimos, if the compiler of the roll wished to indicate in the upper margin, before the text of the report itself, the origin of the report. No report apart from PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 contains all three references, but some contain two: an indication of the amphodon in which the candidate was registered and either a note of the amphodon in the upper margin or in the account of the authors domicile. In all other cases the information matches: the amphodon in which the new member was registered is always identical to that in which the author lived or to that reported in the upper margin.57 Yet this is not the case in our document: here the document mentions in the upper margin, according to the restoration proposed here, the amphodon . The same amphodon appears as the authors domicile, but the registration, we are informed, took place elsewhere, in the amphodon . Cf. supra, n. 19. Cf. Montevecchi (n. 33, 1993) 40, with a similar interpretation of the metropolitan report SB 22.15210 (69-79 CE; Oxyrhynchos). 56 Cf. supra, n. 6. 57 In P.Oxy. 2.257 the domicile and the amphodon where the registration took place are both . These two elements are also identical in the metropolitan registration P.Oxy. 2.258 (in both cases ). In P.Oxy. 46.3277 the amphodon recorded in the headline is identical with the quarter of registration, in both cases the . This is also the case in the metropolitan epikrisis P.Oxy. 67.4584 ().54 55

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This discrepancy may be accounted for by the interval that lapsed between the registration in the amphodon and the date in which the report was served. When the author of the report became twelve, his father decided set in motion his admission into the Oxyrhynchite gymnasion. He took the first step of registering the child in the amphodon in which he had once been registered himself: the . The child was then delivered in the same year for scrutiny by the nomes administration ( , ll. 15-16), but for some reason the scrutiny never took place. Several years later, when child became an adult, he decided to set things straight by submitting the report in the quarter he now lived in: the . He was entirely free to do so.58 The peculiarities of PSI 7.731 + P.Col. inv. 134 are best explained, by the recognition, reached earlier in this paper (supra, pp. 58-59) that the admission procedure was a two-stage one: first a registration in a city amphodon, then a report to a board headed by the strategos and the basilikos grammateus, which set in motion the epikrisis. Usually the second stage would follow the first one within a relatively short interval, but as the present case and that of P.Oxy. 46.3282 show, this was not always the case. Occasionally the child was registered in an amphodon but the submission of the report and the resulting epikrisis were put off for some time in P.Oxy. 46.3282 for as many as 21 years.59 Why then did Zenas son of Zenas turn, eventually, to issue the late report? Did he wish to have his own son admitted into the gymnasion, to be elected a municipal magistrate, to assume a liturgy kept for the gymnasial class only,58 Some families are registered, through time, in a single . In P.Oxy. 2.257 (94/5 CE), the ancestors of the applicants mother were registered from the times of Augustus in the quarter . In P.Mich. 14.676 (272 CE), six of the ten ancestors recorded in the appeal were registered in the same quarter as the candidate himself (name of district not preserved). But this is by no means a rule without exception: in our case the candidate is registered in the quarter , while his father did so in , a pattern also attested in P.Oxy. 22.2345 (224 CE), where five anscestors are recorded in five different quarters. Cf. also PSI 5.457 (269 CE), P.Turner 38 (274/5 or 280/1 CE). See also Jouguet (n. 34) 290. 59 In some cases an epikrisis (probably meaning the second stage; see supra. 11f.) did not take place at all. In P.Oxy. 2.257 (ll. 23-24) a father who registers his child declares that he himself is [] []. In P.Oxy. 22.2345.5 the declarant reports that one of the ancestors died before he could be registered in the general epikrisis in the fifth year of Vespasian. In PSI 12.1230.8-11 a slave-owner who registers his slave as a metropolitan declares that he himself is not registered \/ . Being abroad seems then a common and acceptable ground for failing to register. Cf. also SB 6.9163 and J.Bingen, Les papyrus de la Fondation gyptologique Reine lisabeth. XIV. Dclarations pour lpicrisis, CE 31 (1956) 109-117 at 112-113.

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or to avoid one from which its members were exempt? We can only speculate. Whatever was the incentive for the late report, its peculiarities may have dictated its unique tone. Whoever is responsible for the wording (either the scribe who issued the report or Zenas himself) may have been aware of the oddity of the case and of the doubts it may call forth, and tried to preempt them by an embellished, perhaps archaistic language he applied in the report.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 67-73

An Oxyrhynchite Marriage Contract as School Exercise?1

Tom Garvey Kenyon College

Abstract P.Mich. inv. 6665 shares many features with Oxyrhynchite marriage contracts. Several peculiarities, however, militate against interpreting it as a real marriage contract, and rather make it seem an exercise of sorts. These are: the strictly graded series of amounts included in the document (2, 20, 200); the omission of other specifics where expected; the quasi-literary style of writing; and the correction in a different hand in l. 10. Noteworthy is the left-leaning slant of the main text. Physical Description and Hand The papyrus measures 13 x 17 cm. Clear, sizeable margins at the top (2.5 cm) and bottom (1.5-2 cm) indicate that the original text had no more than the present thirteen lines. The extant text contains 35-55 characters in each line, written across the fibers. There is a kollesis at 11.5 cm from the farthest point of the left side. The verso is blank. Two major tears, one vertical (1/3 the way through the text) and the other horizontal (more or less through line 8) combine with a line of vertical wear (2/3 the way through the text) to impair legibility. This vertical damage is consistent with folding. A small scrap of papyrus (not quite two lines tall and seven characters long at its widest) has been affixed to the main papyrus in the wrong place, and should begin lines 2-3 rather than 3-4. The hand is of medium size, rather elementary but not unschn, and clear throughout. It seems closer to a literary, school hand than to that of a scribe

This edition is the result of a seminar by Peter van Minnen as Whitehead Professor at the American School for Classical Studies at Athens during the 2008-09 academic year. Although thanks are due also to the anonymous readers whose comments have improved this edition, special thanks must go him. All remaining errors are my own.1

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writing contracts.2 One correction ( written over ; line 2) and one omission (; line 10) are written in the space immediately above the line. The former is in the same hand, or at least the same ink, as the rest of the text, but the latter is in a different (broader and blockier) hand (perhaps the correction of the scribes instructor?) and much paler ink. Two blank spaces have intentionally been left before in line 5 and before in line 6, presumably for paragraphing. There are no ligatures to speak of, and each letter is given plenty of space. Cribiore cites such factors as indicative of her fourth, most advanced school hand, the so-called rapid hand.3 Another telltale sign of an advanced students hand is that it slants slightly to the left rather than remaining more properly vertical. The curious left-leaning slant in our document may thus indicate that its scribe was not only an advanced student, but a left-handed one. Date and Provenance Although its exact year is missing, this text can be dated by the dating formula of Antoninus Pius in the last line to ca. 150 CE.4 The text is written in long, wide lines rather than in the narrow columns normally used for Greek ones.5 For this reason we cannot know how far the original text stretched to either side. A reasonable estimate given the dating formula would be 30+ characters preceding.6 Given that no spaces are left to fill them in later, the omission in line 10 of an ordinal number paired with the word year and a cardinal with months suggests that the present document may be a draft, perhaps an apprentice scribes school exercise. The amounts mentioned are from a particular series (2, 20, 200), which suggests that they are artificial and that we2 Cf. in R. Cribiore, Writing, Teachers, and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt (Atlanta 1996): P.Oslo 2.12 (plate 49), a 2nd c. CE papyrus with scholia minora from the Iliad; P.Berol. inv. 12319 (plate 22), a 3rd c. CE ostrakon with passages from a literary anthology containing Euripides, Theognis, Homer, and Hesiod; in W. Schubart, Papyri Graecae Berolinenses (Bonn 1911): P.Berol. inv. 13284 (plate 29), a 2nd c. CE papyrus containing some of Corinnas poetry and Aesops fables. For not dissimilar quasi-literary hands in other Oxyrhynchite marriage documents, see U. Yiftach-Firanko, Marriage and Marital Arrangements (Munich 2003): P.CtYBR inv. 51 (plate 4) and P.CtYBR inv. 53 (plate 3). 3 Cribiore (n. 2) 112. 4 Cf. SB 16.13005 for an exact parallel with the same Emperor. 5 This phenomenon is usually associated more with Demotic papyrus contracts, though it is also reflected in translations of Demotic contracts into Greek, for which see, e.g., P.Mich. 5.249; P.Mich. 5.250; P.Mich. 5.308; and P.Mich. 5.347. 6 Yiftach-Firanko (n. 2) 327 notes, however, that texts of 150-200 letters in each line (written transversa charta) are well-attested among both wills and marriage documents at Oxyrhynchus. See, e.g., P.Oxy. 2.372; P.Oxy. 3.187; and P.Oxy. 3.212.

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have here indeed an exercise of some sort. The use throughout the document of gamoumene in place of the brides actual name is perfectly common, and need not suggest that it was a basic skeleton document into whose blanks the appropriate information could be entered. Although there are places where vital information is omitted (e.g. when no numbers accompany in line 10), in other places specifics are enumerated (as with the number of arourae in line 3 and of drachmas as in line 11). We can be fairly certain, then, that the gamoumenes name (even if fictitious and created solely for the exercise) would have appeared in full in the (now lost) first column of the text. The text was written, almost certainly, in Oxyrhynchus. This is indicated not only by the direct reference to the ekdotes (which is almost always missing in the Arsinoite nome), but also by the death clauses themselves, which are a distinctly Oxyrhynchite phenomenon. The closest parallels are P.Oxy. 3.496 (an ekdosis document) and PSI 5.450.r (a dowry receipt). The former begins (rather than ends, as the present document) with an imperial dating formula. Although there is great consistency between the two documents diction and phrasing, P.Oxy. 3.496 is a significantly more complete text. There is more than enough of P.Oxy. 3.496 to suggest that another, probably single column of text would have preceded P.Mich. inv. 6665, whose missing first half-line could never have contained everything necessary to make it complete. The presence at the beginning of Oxyrhynchite marriage documents of formulae for date and place generally attests to notarial involvement. Such documents usually continue with a dedication to agathe tyche and then testify to the brides transfer from one party to another with either ekdidomi or lambano (depending on the authors point of view as deliverer or receiver, respectively). A date at the end of the document, as here, was however customary in private protocols.7 P.Oxy. 3.496 has the most common, objective aorist form of the verb, indicating that the deed is already done. Since women could be handed over for any number of reasons, the brides legal status as such had to be made explicit. A delineation of the dowry then ensued, in earlier papyri combined with the ekdosis, though later in its own separate clause.8

Tom Garvey Document Type

Since the opening of P.Mich. inv. 6665 is lost, we cannot tell to which of Yiftach-Firankos marriage document categories it belongs, the ekdosis document or the dowry receipt. What we do have contains many of the routine provisions of marriage documents of both types. One of the most conspicuous missing parts is the ekdosis clause itself. Line 2 of the document does mention an ekdotes, suggesting that the first column of the document would have contained some variation on the standard theme of the husband taking his wife from the person giving her away. Furthermore, we know from the masculine gender of the nouns article that the person who has given the bride away is a man. Likewise missing, but probably included in the first column of text, is the delineation of the dowry and confirmation of its delivery. Nevertheless, line 3 mentions all the rest of the things the bride possesses, which may be tantamount to her dowry. Also absent are the normal provisions dealing with the terms of joint life and with divorce. Our text begins with the final set of provisions, namely those dealing with the event of the death of the partners. Outside of Oxyrhynchus, these clauses are strictly optional in the Roman period. There is first (in lines 1-3) a clause dealing with the event of the death of the wife, with a special reference to a woman slave given with the wife into the marriage (as prosphora or prosdosis). For legal purposes, the future offspring of this woman slave seem to be considered part of the dowry. Whether line 4 relates to slaves or to the spouses themselves is unclear. Lines 5-7 discuss what is to happen to the bride and the couples communal property in the event of her husbands death. Certain provisions (land and property) are to be set aside to sustain the widow. The details included in the contract are not unknown from elsewhere, even if they are not strictly typical (cf. P.Oxy. 2.265), and much of the language echoes the provisions set out in proper wills (like that of Taptollion in P.Wisc. 1.13). The formula in line 5 does not grant the wife complete, unlimited, permanent title to the property of the husband; rather, simply the right to hold it until her claims to the dowry are satisfied.9 Lines 4-11 find their closest verbal parallels in P.Oxy. 3.496. Both speak of (a) dying childless ( ); (b) the bride and another party obtaining and being master over everything ( ); and (3) certain conditions (). There is mention of money and property, then a praxis (or lack thereof) and a choice (/), the last of which may deal with the partners right to reshape their hereditary agreement. But whereas P.Oxy. 3.496 ends with a9 For a fuller discussion of kyrieia upon the death of a husband, see Yiftach (n. 2) 240-257.

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formal declaration of synchoresis and acknowledgement of it in a second hand (a subscription), P.Mich. inv. 6665 mentions scribal fees and ends with a date. Since it (a) has no subscription, and (b) is stripped of almost everything that might make it specific, it is most likely the product of a scribe in training. The date of 5 Mesore could then have been the day when the scribes class took place. P.Mich. inv. 6665 H x W = 13 x 17 cm Oxyrhynchus, ca. 150 CE

[ ] [] , , [] [] [] , {}\/ [ , , ] [ ] [ ] , [] 4 [] . . [] . [ ] [ ] , [ ] [ ] [ ] [] [ ] 8 [ ] [] [] [ ] [ ] . ` [] [] []. [] [] . . [] [ ] 12 [] [ - ] , . [ vacat? ] 3 7 to the mother of the bride if she lives, and if not, to the the future offspring of the slave, both to him who gave the bride away if he sur[vives and to , and if not, to] now to the bride two arourae and whatever else the bride possesses (4) the children subsequently die childless, the , having obtained let be absent from all ... But the bride, having taken until they receive , let them be master of everything, and on all [conditions] in exchange for the two-hundred drachmas of the valuation (8) of all his property, while there is no claim should be, those then going legally to the bride for the purpose of the bride in the xth year for y months. But the bride the rest twenty drachmas. And whenever the married couple chooses (12) while the scribal fees are for both parties [ in the year of the Imperator Caesar Titus] Aelius Hadrianus Antoninus Augustus Pius, Mesore 5.

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1-2 : upon the death of her husband, it was common recourse for the wife to return to her original family and/or legal guardian. The various scenarios in lines 1-2 are very similar to what we find in P.Petra 1.1, an agreement concerning family property dating to 537 CE containing elements of both a marriage contract and a will. 1 , is a typical formula, used in wills and other legal documents to delineate contingencies should the preferred recipient die between the time of writing and its execution. Line 2 ( , ) presents a variant on the same theme. 2 : dying childless is common grounds for exclusion from inheritance (for which, see, e.g., P.Wisc. 1.13.11: , ; P.Oxy. 3.496.13: ). Such exclusions are the primary reasons so many contingencies are enumerated in these documents. 4-6 The parallels with line 15 of P.Oxy. 3.496 ( , , ) are especially strong here. 5 : a rare usage. Other known uses of this verb in the 3rd person imperative range in date from 134 CE (P.Oxy. 38.2857.27) to a sixthcentury Christian context (P.Oxy. 16.1901.55; P.Lond. 1.77.65). All of these are in the singular as some variant of the formula (, ) (), where the verb has an apotropaic function: Let evil fraud/envy go away (be absent) from this document. This is the only known use of the plural, which makes the absence of the verbs subjects especially disappointing. 8 : although it is rather odd not to have a claim, there is a parallel (P.Cair.Masp. 2.67151.48: ). 9 : this use of with the dative to signify the party to whom specified property legally goes or conditions apply is well attested (see, e.g., P.Berl.Zill. 7.17-18: ). 10 , as mentioned in the introduction, is incomplete as it stands. If this were a completed contract, numbers would be written between and and after . 12 : specifying provisions for scribal fees is a common element towards the end of such contracts (cf. P.Oxy. 51.3638).

An Oxyrhynchite Marriage Contract?

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Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 75-85

A Delayed Money Transfer1

Cavan Concannon Macquarie University

Abstract Edition of a fragmentary Greek letter from the first or second century CE in which a priest of Thoeris instructs the addressee to go after a money order (). P.Vindob. G 31907 is a fragmentary letter. The writing is evenly spaced, and letters are generally written separately, though occasional ligatures affect the shape of some of them. For example, a cursive kappa written in two movements of the hand occurs side-by-side with one written in three movements (compare in lines 3 and 10). The letter forms date the letter to the first or second century CE.2 Of particular note is the strangely formed nu.3 It is shaped like a pi with a serif on the final foot and can only be distinguished from a pi by the slight downward slope of the second movement of the hand; the second movement of pi slopes slightly upward. The verso contains part of the address, mentioning the author of the letter. The verso also contains a mark in the form of an X, which lacks its center after the removal of the string that closed the original document, which was rolled up horizontally from the right. This is usually found in the middle, which suggests that line 2 here was the middle of the text on the recto. Since greetings start in line 9, we can further assume that the letter would have drawn to a close shortly after where the text breaks off. The margins on the left and right are preserved. A blank space may have followed the end of the text, but if we discount this, the complete document will have measured roughly 20 x 11 cm.

1 I want to thank Peter van Minnen for his help and support. Without him, this paper would not have been possible. Any remaining errors are mine. 2 W. Schubart, Griechische Palographie (Mnchen 1925) 47ff. 3 The best parallel to this form of the nu is in Schubarts Abb. 34, P.Berol. inv. 6854, written during the reign of Trajan (Schubart [n. 2] 59-60).

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gift of/for the remaining months. Go to Rufus and say to him, You have not acted rightly in holding on to the money order until the present day. Let me have them! I am paying interest on them from the month of Tybi. Your sister and her children send you many greetings. If you need something just let me know (Address:) [To , from ], priest of Thoris.

verso 3 The imperative in line 2 in combination with in line 3 suggest that the - here is the name of a person to whom the addressee should present himself and to whom he should speak. There is not enough room in the lacuna on the upper-left corner of the papyrus for a full praenomen and nomen, particularly since there also needs to be a preposition to indicate motion towards from . The name imposes itself: it occurs in other papyri from Egypt, mostly from the first or second centuries CE. I have restored

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before] since it fits the space, and there is a similar construction involving in P.Tebt. 2.421.4: (come to me). 7 The use of the subjunctive is strange. could conceivably go with in the preceding line (if that was not part of the direct discourse) or with that follows. I prefer to connect it with neither: goes naturally with the negative statement in lines 4-5, and one cannot receive an from a certain month; it is more natural to pay interest from a certain month. I assume that from line 7 the author is writing again in his own voice and no longer that of Rufus: the subjunctive suggests the urgency with which he needs the . That the neuter plural is used to refer to can be explained by the fact that money orders usually involve large sums of money, often measured in and not . So a plural number of talents may well be in the authors mind in discussing his . 8 I have taken as a thematic form of rather than as the 1st () or 3rd () person singular subjunctive. Mandilaras notes that the sound of all three forms had become indistinguishable at this time.4 In the context the 1st person makes the most sense. The delay with the means that the author is running up a huge interest bill for no good purpose. 9-10 From the fact that her children greet the addressee, we may surmise that his sister was not the authors wife. 11-12 The - at the end of line 11 can be completed in line 12 as a future indicative as well, though this is less common than the imperative; cf. P.Ryl. 2.239.10-11: [] (and if you need anything else, make it known to me). Verso 1 The sender is identified as a priest of , the Egyptian hippopotamus goddess. If the papyrus was considerably taller than 20 cm (see above), it would be possible for the title of the priest to continue in the lacuna with .

A Delayed Money Transfer Priest of Thoris

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The author of the text identifies himself as a priest of Thoris, a cult that was popular in Egypt and particularly associated with the city of Oxyrhynchus, which gives us our best clue to the provenance of the letter. Thoris is the Greek transliteration of the Egyptian t3-wrt or Tawaret, which means great one.5 She was often represented as a hippopotamus with human breasts and was associated with women and childbirth.6 It was not uncommon for women to wear amulets depicting the goddess as an apotropaic device. Small ceramic vessels depicting Thoris have been found with holes in the nipples for milk. Thoris was occasionally associated with Athena (as in P.Mert. 2.73, 163/4 CE), though this tendency seems to have been resisted in Oxyrhynchus.7 Much of the physical evidence for the cult of Thoris derives from the Ptolemaic period, but the cult may have persisted into the fifth century CE.8 Thoris was a popular deity in Oxyrhynchus, where evidence of her cult is found throughout the city. The tax on the dike of Thoris, which may have been outside the city, was 6 drachmas and 4 obols, which was the standard tax on dikes listed in P.Princ. 2.46 (second century CE). Thoris was worshipped in a number of villages in the Oxyrhynchite nome, including Tholthis, Mouchinor, and Kerkeura.9 Thoris gave her name to two districts in Oxyrhynchus, one named for the Thoereum of Thenepmoi and the other for the paved processional way leading up to the main Thoereum. Whitehorne has shown that there is evidence for three temples of Thoris in Oxyrhynchus, indicating the popularity of the goddess.10 The smaller temples were the Thoereum of the Thenepmoi and the joint Thoereum of the Exagoreioi and Sintano.11 LGG 7:331-332. Thoris was also part lion and had a crocodiles tail. 7 H.I. Bell, Cults and Creeds in Graeco-Roman Egypt (New York 1953) 15-16. Bell wonders if Athena Polias would be flattered by the association with a hippopotamus. There is evidence that there may have been an addition of a cult of the emperors in the complex of the Thorion, which was also associated with Isis, Sarapis, Osiris, and other greatest gods (P.Mich. 18.788, dating to 173 CE). Thoris is often called Athena Thoris in Oxyrhynchus, but she is never worshipped there in her Greek form (J. Whitehorne, The Pagan Cults of Roman Oxyrhynchus, ANRW 2.18.5, 1995, 3080). 8 D. Frankfurter, Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance (Princeton 1998) 121-122. 9 Whitehorne (n. 7) 3082. 10 Whitehorne (n. 7) 3080-3082. 11 These two temples were merged sometime before their appearance in the papyri in the mid-third century CE. The two names are listed together in SB 4.7634 (dated to 249), P.Mert. 1.26 (dated to 274), and PSI 3.215 (dated to 339). Whitehorne notes5 6

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The main temple of Thoris in Oxyrhynchus was a monumental temple in the center of the city. The size of the temple is indicated by a papyrus from the fourth century CE, which indicates that the temple required seven guards, with an eighth guard for the street leading up to it (P.Oxy. 1.43.37-38).12 The temple is first mentioned in 250 BCE and stood until at least 462 CE.13 It seems likely that Thoris was worshipped here alongside other major Egyptian gods, like Isis, Sarapis, Osiris, and the associated gods (P.Oxy. 2.241, 98 CE). Whitehorne notes the importance of the temple in the life of the city. Alongside its large priestly staff the temple was used for klinai in honor of Sarapis, housed a lost and found, and may have had rooms for incubation.14 Though the temple served as an important center of civic life, there is no evidence that it was involved in banking or business like the nearby Sarapeum.15 Besides the author of this letter, we know of several other priests of Thoris from Oxyrhynchus. In one text we meet Thonis, son of Phatres, priest and pteraphoros and hierotekton(?) of Thoeris, of Isis, of Sarapis, of the temple of the [divine] Augustus Caesar and of the associated gods, and sealer of the sacred calves (P.Mich. 18.788, 173 CE). Thonis has leased a camel stable to a freedman for 300 drachmas a year, plus extra bonuses and taxes, which gives us a sense of his economic level. Most priesthoods remained elite institutions, and we can assume that the author of the letter is at least comfortably well off.16 That the author is involved in the transfer of money is further evidence for his economic level.17evidence that the cult of Thoris of the Exagoreioi was associated with oracular activity (Whitehorne [n. 7] 3082). 12 It may be that the temple was just big, requiring a large staff of guards. For a reconstruction of the location of the temple in the cityscape of Oxyrhynchus, see R. Alston, The City in Roman Egypt (London and New York 2002) 267. Alstons reconstruction builds on that of J. Krger, Oxyrhynchos in der Kaiserzeit. Studien zur Topographie und Literaturrezeption (Frankfurt and New York 1990). 13 The latest evidence for activity in the Thorion in Oxyrhynchus comes from 462 CE (PSI 3.175), when the space was leased out as a banqueting hall (Whitehorne [n. 7] 3080). This is a private lease of space and may be only a topographical reference to the , a section of Oxyrhynchus. 14 Whitehorne (n. 7) 3081. 15 Whitehorne (n. 7) 3079. 16 For a discussion of the institutional tests of a priests fitness for service, see C.A. Nelson, Status Declarations in Roman Egypt (Amsterdam 1979) 60-62. 17 This is not to suggest that he was a banker or a publican, though this is not out of the question. Private persons often involved themselves in such capital transfers, as in the example of Ciceros friend Atticus (D.B. Hollander, Money in the Late Roman Republic [Leiden and Boston 2007] 40-44).

A Delayed Money Transfer Epitheke

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The interpretation of the business that is discussed in the letter turns on how we understand (line 5). An can refer to a covering for a statue or for a general increase, including a financial increase such as a pay raise. In the papyri from Egypt it generally has the sense of either the written order for the transfer of deposited money from one location to another or the written receipt for such a transfer.18 The use of this form of capital transfer was important to the economy in Egypt, since it allowed for the easy movement of capital without having to worry about the danger of transporting large sums of money from one place to another physically. A letter of credit was light to carry and could only be cashed by the proper bearer, making it something like a modern travelers or cashiers cheque. As a written order for the disbursement of funds the classic example is BGU 4.1064 (dated from 27 December 277 to 25 January 278 CE).19 Here an order is given to a banker to disburse to a citizen of Oxyrhynchus a matching sum of money that was deposited by him with a banker in Hermopolis. In this case the letter is itself called an instructing the addressee to perform a transaction: [] (I have made this out as a single copy in my own hand, and let it be binding, and having been asked the question I agreed [lines 11-14]). Bearer can present the to the appropriate banker in Oxyrhynchus in order to withdraw his deposited sum.20 The use of an in money transfers was not limited solely to bankers.21 It was also used by the agents of the Roman administration, as seen in P.Oxy. 43.3146 (dated 10 May 347 CE). Aurelius Sozon, an Alexandrian temporarily in Oxyrhynchus, receives an advance from Flavius Alexander, an officer under the imperial command ( , lines 6-7), out of the imperial account ( , line 9). Flavius18 I have not seen H. Inoue, The Transfer of Money in Roman Egypt: A Study of , Kodai 10 (1999-2000) 83-104. 19 The classic treatment of this text is F. Preisigke, Girowesen im Griechischen gypten (Strassburg 1910) 204-205. 20 A parallel example of a simple deposit/withdrawal through money transfer is P.Oxy. 59.3979 (dated 26 September 266 or 25 March 267 CE). In this text a Sinpsansneus has received 900 drachmas in the village of Sephtha and is now instructing a certain Leonides to give that amount of money over to Aurelius Herakleides. The letter serves as a note of credit for the transfer of money. 21 Bogaert notes that only BGU 1064 and PSI 890 mention banks. Most often texts mentioning an are just orders for payment (R. Bogaert, Trapezitica Aegyptiaca [Firenze 1994] 238, n. 66).

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had sent a letter of credit from Alexandria to Aurelius to allow him to withdraw the money ( , line 8). This letter acknowledges his receipt of the money and states that Aurelius will return the money to Alexandria through a certain Polychronius. Money transfers were also part of everyday business in Egypt. In P.Oxy. 56.3864 (dated to the fifth century CE) a seller of sacks in Alexandria tells a colleague in Oxyrhynchus not to accept any letters of credit (lines 24, 32). Business is apparently bad in Alexandria, and the merchant is planning on returning to Oxyrhynchus (lines 23-25). The author repeatedly reminds his colleague not to accept any letters of credit, because he is leaving Alexandria and will not be present to disburse cash to anyone. The departure of the merchant closes a suppy line of capital. Presumably the merchant participated in this service with his colleague as a way of supplementing his income. In P.Oxy. 49.3505 (dated to the second century CE) a trader (Papontos) in mats and sheepskins has sent a shipment to Alexander through a certain Didymus. He instructs Alexander to send any money acquired through their sale back to him immediately through Didymus by a letter of credit ( , line 11). The should contain also a receipt for what he has received, an accounting for what has been sold, and the remaining stock. Here the money that is transferred stays within the business and is part of the financial recordkeeping of the company.22 A business letter sent between the brothers Harpalus and Heras in the second or third century CE (P.Oxy. 41.2983) shows the way in which the as a written document was closely connected to the financial process to which it attested. As part of a list of business dealings, Harpalus asks his brother to send him by a secure messenger a letter of , which Heras had received from Alexandria ( [lines 11-13]). Harpalus presumably wants the financial document for his business records. That he must specify the as a letter suggests that the term could also refer to the process

A similar, though slightly more complex, form of accounting via an is found in P.Oxy. 7.1055 (dated to 267 CE). The letter is an order for wine from a wine merchant. The cost of the wine is not covered by an from the buyer but by an of five talents from a certain Embetion (line 6). This could then either refer to an account that was held under Embetions name by the merchant resulting from recurring money transfers between the two or to something like the practice of signing over a check to be deposited to another account.22

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of money transfer through deposit and not just as the written proof of the transaction.23 A final example which may be relevant to our papyrus is P.Oxy. 8.1158 (3rd century CE). The author writes to a brother/friend Diodorus in Oxyrhynchus, asking him to collect, from a baker named Aretion, four talents, which the latter had borrowed when he was with the author in Alexandria. Diodorus is then asked to use the money to buy supplies that can be sent to Oxyrhynchus. The author has already written to Aretion instructing him to disburse the money to Diodorus (lines 13-14), but he also recognizes possible problems that might arise in the collection of the money: If you learn that Aretion is going to accuse you about the money, write to me and I will send you an ( , [lines 23-24]).24 Here the is a slightly more complicated financial instrument than that found in BGU 4.1064. Aretion has borrowed money from the author and presumably filed a contract for the repayment of the debt. Now in Alexandria he will be asked to repay the debt by an intermediary of the creditor so that the money can be used for the purchase of supplies in Alexandria. The author assumes that a formal is not necessary for Diodorus to collect the debt, since Aretion should be aware of the procedure requested by the author. But should there be a problem the author will issue an that would presumably specify that any disbursement of money by money transfer would count against the debt owed to the author. In this brief survey of the uses of in the Egyptian papyri25 one can see the way in which the process of money transfer was used in a wide variety of contexts in the economy of Egypt. An was the record of a financial transaction involving the deposit and withdrawal of capital in different places. As a document it was used to instruct a particular agent to remit a deposited sum to the bearer and it seems that it could also be retained for financial recordkeeping. The use of this form of capital disbursement was not limited to the sphere of bankers, but could be used in government transfers and in personal A similar use of an within the context of family business practices is P.Mich. 3.220 (dated to 296/7 CE), where the author writes to his wife instructing her about the disbursement of funds to a certain Dioskoros. 24 On this reading, I am assuming that the money mentioned in line 23 is a reference to the talents owed by Aretion. There is no other mention in the letter of a financial or business relationship between the recipient and Aretion besides the collection of the debt. 25 Although the term is not used, the text published by A. Papathomas, Ein kaiserzeitlicher Zahlungsauftrag an einen Oiketes, Analecta Papyrologica 12 (2000) 221226, uses formulas reminiscent of documents.23

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business transactions involving individuals not specifically designated as professional bankers.26 In this sense the use of is not unlike the Roman practice of permutatio.27 The evidence from the papyri suggests that, like a permutatio, an was used at the level of imperial administration, within the banking sector, and among private, non-professional lenders and business people. As a way of making the transfer of capital between different locales more efficient and safe, the was a useful element of the economic system of Roman Egypt.28 Interpretation From our discussion of the text and some of the key terms we are now in a position to speculate as to the nature of the situation which prompted its production. The author is a priest of Thoris, most likely from Oxyrhynchus, where the cult was a prominent feature of the city. That he self-identifies as a priest of Thoris in the address of the letter suggests that this was an important title that he had acquired for himself, possibly as a result of a significant financial outlay. The author has taken up his pen to write to an acquaintance elsewhere asking that he intercede on his behalf with a certain Rufus, who has been holding on to an .

One interesting exception is P.Oxy. 43.3092 (dated to 217 CE). It is an agreement by tax-farmers to share their tax concession. Ther word here (line 9) seems to carry the sense of a downpayment in advance of taking up the duties of tax-farmer (conjecture from the editor). This could suggest that the potential tax farmers were required to put up a sum as collateral against the future income from their collecting concern. It may also be that the was deposited in an account as part of a regular practice of money transfer that was part of the job. Hollander notes that publicani were frequently involved in such money transfers (Hollander [n. 17] 42-43). This would suggest that the referred to was a deposit of money set aside for use solely as money for transfer. 27 Like an , a permutatio was a form of money transfer practiced by elite Romans as they moved from place to place that functioned like travelers cheques (Hollander [n. 17] 41). The transfer could signal merely a change of currency, but it can also just mean the transfer of money in the same currency from one place to another (Hollander [n. 17] 42). A system of cash reserves that could be drawn on by Roman officials in the provinces was of great benefit to the publicani, who did not thus have to risk the open transfer of funds (Hollander [n. 17] 42-43). Temple officials would likely have been able to participate in the system of exchange (Hollander [n. 17] 44). 28 This is not to say that this form of money transfer was only used in Egypt. As the parallels with permutationes suggests, this was a financial instrument used in other parts of the empire.26

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Rufus name is Roman and is a common cognomen, which gives us little information about who he was. Another Rufus that we know of in Oxyrhynchus is found in P.Oxy. 3.508 (dated to 102 CE). There the Rufus in question is involved in loans of money, and the date roughly corresponds to the date of the handwriting for this papyrus. But Rufus is a common cognomen and there is not enough information to connect the two references. Though the author is probably from Oxyrhynchus, it is not a given that he is writing from that city, particularly as an could be used for traveling business. The priest is upset because Rufus should have issued him an at a point in the past so that the priest could withdraw funds from an affiliate of Rufus in his current location. The priest asks his acquaintance to speak with Rufus about the delay with the and to convey to him that the priest should already have received it. The priest then notes the urgency which attends the matter: he is paying interest on the money from the month of Tybi. In order to move on with his business the priest needs Rufus to forward the soon. The letter moves toward a close with stock greeting formulas for the priests acquaintance and an offer to provide things as needed.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 87-91

A Womans Unease about Her Property

Tom Garvey Kenyon College

Abstract Edition of a 4th century letter or draft of a petition from the Vienna papyrus collection with trendy (late antique) turns of phrase that are used to express its authors unease regarding her property and ends with a verb () unattested in other papyri. The verso contains an unrelated monetary account in a different hand. P.Vindob. G. 15061 measures 8.5 x 18 cm. The original height and width of the papyrus are uncertain, as only the bottom margin (2.5 cm) is preserved. Vertical wear 7 cm from the left obscures several letters. The hand is clear, consistent, slants to the right, and sometimes leaves small spaces between words. Letters are generally, though not exclusively, written individually (the exceptions are mostly of ligatures involving epsilon, alpha, and pi). This is consistent with other examples known from letters dated to the 3rd-4th c. CE (cf., e.g., P.Mich. inv. 414, for which see J. Sheridan Moss, Much Ado about the Grape Harvest, BASP 45, 2008, 241-246). A 4th century CE date seems preferable because of the occurrence of in line 4. Despite its short and fragmentary nature, this tantalizing letter or draft of a petition of unknown provenance shows several noteworthy idiosyncrasies. Perhaps most noticeable is its trendy (late antique) terminology: words and phrases like (4), (4), and (7), are by no means standard and, assuming they are not the embellishments of a professional scribe taking dictation, would seem to indicate (a) the authors erudition, (b) wealth sufficient to buy such an education, and (c) some measure of familiarity with (as opposed to distance from) the addressee. Such terminology becomes even more impressive when we learn from the genitive absolute in line 4 ( ) that the author is in fact a woman, for only the wealthiest of women had access to such learning (cf. the circle of women revolving around Apollonios in 2nd century CE Hermopolis and Heptakomia, for which see R. Cribiore, Windows on a Womans World: Some Letters from Roman Egypt, in A. Lardinois and L. McClure (eds.), Making Silence Speak: Womens Voices in Greek Literature and Society (Oxford 2001) 223-239; see also R. Bagnall and R. Cribiore, Womens Letters from Ancient

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Egypt 300 BC AD 800 (Ann Arbor 2006). The purpose of the text is to convey her concern about her property as well as to give suggestions about its proper distribution and maintenance (for women in positions of economic power and importance, see J.A. Sheridan, Not at a Loss for Words, TAPA 128 (1998) 189203; cf. especially the case of Aurelia Charite, the late-3rd, early-4th century CE female Hermopolitan owner of property in multiple pagi). The reference to the addressees providence in line 6 strongly suggests that he was none other than the praeses of the Thebaid, and this explains the note of deference in line 2, where the author suggests that she can merely ask, while the addressee can order. However this may be, the text ends on a complimentary, reassuring note. If it was a letter, a greeting may well be missing now in the lacuna to the right. If it was a petition, it cannot have ended where the text currently does, which would suggest that it was only part of a petition, most likely a fair draft of a crucial passage rather than a copy. For a list of petitions from Late Antiquity see J.-L. Fournet and J. Gascou in D. Feissel and J. Gascou (eds.), La ptition Byzance (Paris 2004) 141-196. Fournet there (p. 71) notes the koine stylistique potisante characteristic of such texts. With its trendy turns of phrase the present text (and, e.g., CPR 7.20, letters from the Council of Hermopolis to the praeses of the Thebaid) can be seen as early examples of this. [ ] . . . . . . . . . [ . ] . . [ . . ] . . . [ [ ] [] [ [ ] . . [ [ ] [ [ ], , [ [ ] [] [] [ [ ][] . ] ] ] ] 4 ] ]

that I ask and that you order to be distributed to the village [people] only on Sunday(?). For I know such properties. Transferring (4) to the pagi of in addition to which while I am not at all at ease these the fields may be unsown, and on account of the of your providence about everything I have hope to improve (after/from) misfortune. 2 : makes clear that our female author is (acting as if she is) addressing a socially superior person, for whereas she can ask, the addressee can order. - : could just as easily be restored as , the village leaders. Unfortunately, what is to be distributed to this group is unclear.

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3 Because of the texts fragmentary nature, we cannot know for certain whether is the name of a woman (well attested from the mid-4th c. CE), the first day of the week (i.e., the Lords Day, or Sunday; first attested in 325 in P.Oxy. 54.3759), or an adjective signifying imperial. In the first case, the dative would indicate a simple indirect object, perhaps to be paired with the [ in the preceding line. My translation renders the second, in which case the dative would indicate the time when the distribution in the preceding line is to take place. Imperial property ( ), attested from 222 BCE (P.Oxy. 12.1461.9-10), cannot be ruled out as a possibility either. - : the plural here suggests that the author knows the business of running estates, more specifically , or non-arable properties. Arable land (line 6) is, however, also her concern. The whole phrase may well be an interjection. - : as elsewhere in the document, this verbs direct object is missing, so we do not know what was to be moved/transferred. If we follow Chr. Wilck. 358.5, laborers or tenants are what should (or should not) be transferred to other pagi. 4 For Egyptian districts () in general, see P.Herm.Landl. For lists of land owned by a woman and arranged by pagi, see P.Charite, esp. 11. - : the use of the litotes ( + -privative) paired with the qualifying adverb (not at all at ease) is a prime example of the unusual diction employed in the text and gives an impression of the authors education. The use of rather than perhaps suggests that the genitive absolute is concessive.

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- reveals the sex of the author. Although scribes were commonly employed to write letters and other documents for them, we know that some women were literate and capable of writing their own texts. The woman of the present text may not unreasonably be thought to have been in charge of her own property. 6 [] : a remark flattering the addressee, probably the praeses of the Thebaid (cf., e.g., CPR 7.20.10, P.Oxy. 12.1468.7, P.Panop.Beatty 1.402, and P.Stras. 6.596.9-10). It is not entirely impossible that the addressee is a man running the authors property for her, since can also be exercised about productive property. In that case the man would not be a lowly administrator but a fellow member of the elite. 7 Because the text before is missing, we cannot tell whether it is a genitive singular governed by a lost preposition (such as or ) or the direct object of , a verb that can be both transitive and intransitive. The fact that the verb is unique in the papyri prevents us from finding suitable parallels. Appendix The verso of P.Vindob. G. 15061 contains lines of a seemingly unrelated account of money in talents and thousands (of drachmas). Since no known datable use of it after about 350 CE has been verified, the presence of the drachma suggests a date in the early fourth century (see R.S. Bagnall, Currency and Inflation in Fourth Century Egypt [Chico 1985] 11). The hand is not that of the recto, and its writing is oriented perpendicularly to the text there. [ ]. [ ]. L [ ] c L B [ ] L [ ] L B () [ ] L [] 1 of the old account for 9 , 3 talents [for] 66 , 10 talents, 2,000 (drachmas) 7 talents 1 talent, 2,000 (drachmas), makes altogether 21 talents, [4,000 (drachmas).]

Columbia University purchased P.Col.inv.46 from M.Nahman through H.I.Bell in July 1923. Although nothing is known about the exact provenance I worked on P.Col. inv. 46 during the 2006 ASP Summer Seminar. It belongs to the Papyrus Collection, Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University. I am very grateful to Prof. R.S.Bagnall, Dr. H.Behlmer, and Prof. R.Cribiore for giving me the opportunity to edit and publish this document, as well as for their generous guidance and support. I also wish to thank the other participants of the seminar (M.Bakker, A.Bakkers, S.Bay, A.Bryen, U.Gad, B.Haug, K.Kalish, F.Lemaire, R.Mairs, V.Millozzi, and J.Westerfeld), who provided friendly and helpful feedback, as well as my colleague E.Lytle, who has generously revised the manuscript. R.S.Bagnall provided the acquisition information. 2 Four small, unplaced fragments are registered under the same inventory number. Fr. 1, located at the bottom left of the papyrus, appears not to belong to this document. Its verso is paler than that of the main sheet; subtle discontinuities between the fibers can be observed as well as a discrepancy between the handwritings and the ink colors. The remains of three lines of writing (c. 10-12 letters each) are visible, but I have not been able to decipher them satisfactorily. This fragment likely has erroneously or deliberately been joined to the document, perhaps by the dealer. Fr.2 was originally positioned upside down to the right of fr.1. The blank space remaining on its left side shows that the preserved text corresponds to the beginning of a line. I believe that this fragment (reading ) corresponds to the beginning of l.5, where it is now placed. This seems all the more likely since a trace of what could be the lower part of the first omicron of is visible just above l.6. Fr.3 contains traces of two lines of text. In the first line, I read , while only a fragmentary phi remains of the second. It would be tempting to think that this fragment1

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of the document, mention of Perkeesis and Philadelpheia, two villages of the Arsinoite nome, points to the Fayyum, most probably Philadelpheia. This seems all the more probable given that this purchase, Columbias first from Nahman, also included at least five other Philadelpheia papyri (P.Col. 8.209 = inv.6; 8.211 = inv.9; 10.264 = inv.19; 10.263 = inv.20; 10.281 = inv.31). The occurrence of the name further strengthens this hypothesis (see below, note to l.1). The top (1.7cm), left (5-7mm), and, to a lesser degree, right (3-5mm) margins are preserved, as well as a vertical kollesis located about 4.3cm from the left margin. The twenty-line text is written along the fibers on the recto. The verso is blank. The black ink used by the scribe has faded slightly over time. The handwriting is a fluent medium-sized cursive, which shows some interesting graphic features: long filler strokes (see for instance ll.1, 3, 6), curvy abbreviation strokes (see l.15), dramatic nu (l.14), some loose and fluid epsilons and omicrons, which look like etas and alphas (see ll.11-17). It is somewhat surprising that such a proficient hand produced several errors: use of nominatives for patronyms (ll.1-2), misused accusative (l.8), vocalic interchanges ( for : l.5 = fr.2, and for : l.11), and vowel loss (see note to l.8). Although the text is generally well preserved, the document contains several lacunas, the two most important of which are the loss of the top left corner, roughly equal to the first seven to ten letters of ll.1-5 (furtunately the formulaic nature of these lines allows us to restore this section with considerable confidence), and nearly all of l20 together with the final part of the text (see below, note to ll.19-20). This document consists of a loan of one solidus of gold. It has been contracted by Aurelius Harpallos son of Pekysis from the village of Perkeesis in the Arsinoite nome, to Paesis son of Paesis from Philadelpheia. The initial date of the loan, its duration, and the date of the repayment are lost. However, we know that it had to be repaid in the month of Thoth (that is, at the beginning of an Egyptian civil year) of a fourth indiction, together with an interest of three artabas of legumes (see note to l.8). P.Col. inv.46 thus belongs to the limited corpus of loans of money with interest in kind. The publication of thisbelongs to ll.19-20, and that the first line contains part of the formula , the beginning of which is legible at the start of l. 19. Fr. 4: This blank fragment, which stands to the immediate right of fr.3, could belong to the vertical or horizontal margins of the document. The APIS photograph shows that it had been positioned with the verso up. The presence of small pieces of papyrus glued over part of the two first letters of l.2 of Fr. 1 as well as behind lacunas on ll.6-7 (with traces of ink across the vertical fibers very similar to that of fr.1) and 13-14 also fit this hypothesis.

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loan brings to twelve the number of known documents of this type (see below, Excursus). Neither the initial date of the loan, nor its duration, nor the expected date of repayment is preserved (see below, note to ll. 19-20). However, five elements allow us to propose a rough dating: the use of the gold solidus currency, the reference to an indiction, palaeography, phraseology, and the mention of Philadelpheia. The mention of a gold solidus (ll.7, 17) reveals that the loan postdates the first issue of this currency in conjunction with Diocletians monetary reform of AD 296. More specifically, since the use of the word to designate the gold solidus seems to begin only with the issuing of Constantines lighter solidus (see P.NYU 1.11a: AD 333), a pre-Constantinian date can be excluded.3 Another element in favor of a later 4th century dating is the reference to the indiction system (l.10). Indeed, not only was the indiction system first introduced in Egypt in 313 (on the basis of a 312/3 indiction), but it seems to have been adopted relatively slowly in the Arsinoite nome.4 In other respects, the similarities between the handwriting of P.Col.inv.46 and that of P.Col. 7.162, a receipt from AD 345, point to a date in the middle of the 4th century, as does the documents phraseology, which bears close resemblance to three Arsinoite loans dated from the second half of the 4th century: P.Gen.12.12 (Contrat de prt avec garantie, Philadelpheia, AD 384), P.Col. 7.182 (Loan of Wheat and Money, Arsinoite, AD 372) and PCol.7.184 (Loan of Money, Arsinoite, AD 372). Finally, since the latest known documents originating from Philadelpheia date from AD 386 (P.Gen. 1.69) and from the end of the 4th to the beginning of the 5th century (SB 16.12397; O.Mich. 1.21), it seems very unlikely that the present loan postdates this period. Consequently, I propose to date P.Col.inv.46 from 340-410, a period spanning from the reign of ConstantiusII (337-361) to that of Arcadius (383-408). P.Col.inv.46 would thus be among the earliest loans of money with repayment of interest in kind so far known (see below, Excursus). Finally, the reference to a fourth indiction (l.10) as the date for the repayment of the loan and interest allows us to refine the approximate dating of the contracts termination date. Indeed, five fourth indictions are attested between 340 and 410: in 345, 360, 375, 390, and 405.5

1 3 4 5 on fr. 2; 7 8 ; 11 12 17 ; 18 ; 19 [ on fr. 3, l. 1 20 [ on fr. 3, l. 2 [Aurelius] Harpallos son of Pekysis [from the village of] Perkeesis of the Arsinoite [nome, to Aurelius] Paesis son of Paesis [from the village of] Philadelpheia of the same nome, [greeting]. I acknowledge that I have received from you for my personal and necessary use one solidus of gold, 1 solidus of gold, with an interest of three artabas of legumes, 3 artabas, which I will necessarily repay in the month of Thoth of the fourth fortunate indiction with no delay and without any dispute, the right of execution belonging to Aurelius Paesis from me the acknowledging party or from all my property as though by a legal decision, and on formal interrogation, I acknowledged (the above). Aurelius Harpallos, the abovementioned, received one solidus of gold with an interest of three artabas of legumes, 3 artabas, and I will repay them [at the appointed time, as aforesaid.] 1 ] : So far unknown. This proper name is a variant of , a Macedonian name attested as early as Alexander the Great. In Egyptian papyri, it appears mostly in Arsinoite documents from the

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2nd to the 4th century AD. As for , it is widely attested throughout Egypt during the Roman period, and notably in the Arsinoite nome. 2 ] (): The village of belonged to the meris of Herakleides and is attested from the 1st to the 8th cent. AD. Known spelling variants in the papyri are , and more exceptionally and ; see A.Calderini and S.Daris, Dizionario dei nomi geografici e topografici dellEgitto greco-romano 4.2 (Milan 1984) 104; Idem, Suppl.1 (1988) 161; T. Derda, : Administration of the Fayum under Roman Rule (Warszawa 2006), who discusses Perkeesis (= Kerkeesis) and locates it on his map. 3 ] []: So far unknown. , literally He who belongs to Isis, is a common Egyptian name appearing very frequently in Arsinoite papyri from the Roman period. 5 (fr.2): This reading is proposed on the basis of strong palaeographical similarities between the shape of the traces of letters on this fragment and the beginning of (l.17). 6-7 <>: Following the anonymous referee of this article, I suggest that the writer was aiming at writing at the beginning of l.7, but that, by homoearchon of chi-ro, in the transition from l.6 he lost his train of thought and wrote instead. []: On this acc. neut. form, see F.T.Gignac, A Grammar of the 7 Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods 2 (Milano 1981) 184. - () () /: The reading () has been suggested, but I think that although the shape of the first mu is somewhat puzzling, the current reading makes sense in terms of palaeography (compare with l.17) and fits better with the phraseology of the document. One would however expect the well attested () () . () is plainly legible. However, the reading of () is less clear. The loop that ends it looks like an abbreviation sign. Moreover, context and a comparison with the first letters of the figuring on l.17 (the one on l.7 being fragmentary) support this reading, although I have not found any parallel for this inverted expression. 8 : The reading is complicated by the presence of two small strokes (understrokes?). Although the right side of the mu may be mistaken with an expected iota, the spelling on l.18 tend to confirm the proposed reading. On the frequent omission of an accented iota before a back vowel and after a liquid or a nasal, see Gignac, op. cit., 302. This vowel loss is interpreted as resulting

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from the change of /i/ to /j/ in this position, with concomitant shift of the accent to the final syllable. If that is the case here, the accentuation proposed in LSJ would have to be revised from to . Apart from this document, is only attested in a few papyri, all dated from about the end of the 3rd cent.AD onwards: P.Flor. 1.64.88 in ZPE 29 (1978) 267-269 and BASP 45 (2008) 261-275 (Hermopolites, end 3rd beginning 4th cent.); P.Ryl. 4.627.192, 198, 206; 629.266, 333, 357; 630/637.22, 45, 70, 106, 124, 138, 172, 218, 327, 360, 378, 432; 639.50 (Theophanes archive, Hermopolis Magna, beginning of the 4th cent.); 6 CPR 8.85.5 ([), 24 (()) (Hermopolites, 7th-8th cent.). The exact meaning of this word, unattested when LSJ and the Wrterbuch der griechischen Papyrusurkunden were first published, is uncertain. It was at first assimilated with , another rare word (P.Giss.Bibl. 25 [unknown provenance, 4th cent.]; P.Oxy. 14.1656.14 [Oxyrhynchus, end 4th-5th cent.]), believed by the editors of P.Oxy. 14.1656 to be the Greek equivalent of the Coptic word , hen, domestic fowl (see Crum 818A). However, in 1952, the editors of P.Ryl. 4.627 concluded that is probably not a form of (fowl) but denotes some kind of vegetables and may be connected with the Coptic , reed, rush. This definition is included in the 1968 Supplement to LSJ, where is defined as prob.a kind of vegetable, the form still being translated into fowl. The publication in 1987 of P.Oxy. 54.3737 (AD 312), 3744 (AD 318), and 3755 (AD 320) offered a better understanding. These three papyri are declarations of prices made by the guild of the of Oxyrhynchos. We learn from P.Oxy. 54.3737 that the were selling calavance bean ) and vetch (). ([] ), chickpea ([] ), fenugreek ( Consequently, the word was translated by R.A.Coles into seedvegetable merchant. Interestingly, we also find the compound : SB 3.6874.2 (mummy tag of unknown provenance and date); P.Tebt. 3.1019 = CPJ 1.29.6 (Tebtunis, 2nd cent. BC); P.Berl.Bork. 2.29; 6.25; 12.13; 17.6, where () was corrected to () (see BL 6:160-161) (Panopolis, early 4th cent.). And K.A.Worp has convincingly argued that the word (), mentioned twice (138, 140) in P.Oxy. 16.2058 (Oxyrhynchus, 6th cent.), is probably a synonym of or . On the basis of papyrological evidence documenting the interchanges > , > and > , he believes it probable that the three forms are orthographic variants of a single word, without, however, rejecting altogether the possibility that or are distinct nouns (/, ZPE 112, 1996, 161-162). The same year Worps article was published, the Re6

See also J. Matthews, The Journey of Theophanes (New Haven and London 2006).

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vised Supplement to LSJ assimilated and and translated both words as a kind of vegetable. In the light of the present document we can, however, be considerably more precise. The quantity of is given in artabas (ll.8, 18), a measure of capacity used for dry goods such as wheat, barley, and beans. It could be used to measure vegetable seeds, but in that case, one would expect a compound such as . It thus seems that designated a dry good, with P.Oxy. 54.3737 offering an additional clue: all of the goods offered for sale by the are varieties of legumes. On that basis, I propose, as already suggested by R.A.Coles translation of into seed-vegetable merchant, to consider as a generic term meaning legume. As for the possible yet not certain synonymy of the forms and , I share K.A.Worps carefully argued view. Considering that legumes were worth roughly the same as wheat, and that in Byzantine Egypt most wheat prices stated in gold fall in a range of 8 to 12 artabas of wheat per solidus (see R.S. Bagnall and P.J. Sijpesteijn, Currency in the Fourth Century and the Date of CPR V, 26, ZPE 24, 1977, 123, n.37, and Bagnall [n.3] 6-8, with an estimated 8-11 artabas per solidus for legumes), we may safely assume that the present loan came with a minimum yearly interest of around 25% (1 solidus = 12 artabas) to 37,5% (1 solidus = 8 artabas). If this was a short term loan, the yearly rate was in fact much higher (see below, Table 2 and following remarks). 9 alpha. : There seems to be a scribal correction before the second

13 : To my knowledge, the only occurrence in a loan. The usual formula, widely attested in the Roman period, is . 13-14 Some letters seem to be double drawn. Did the scribes reed point split? 18 : Compare with l.8, where the form read is . 19-20 Considering the formulaic pattern of 4th century loans, one would expect the recapitulative sentence to be followed by specific mention of the writer of the document. If that is the case here, the traces of the upper part of letters at the end of l.19 could belong to the first name of the scribe, probably Aurelius. However, since there is no date given in the usual position at the beginning of the loan, it ought to appear where it is occasionally found between the recapitulative formula and mention of the scribe. It is possible that the date occurred at the very end of the document, that the loan was not dated (see for instance SB 8.9772 or P.Grenf. 2.90, both from the 6th cent.) or that the date was only given at the far (and lost) bottom of the verso (see P.Gen. 12.12 [AD 384], although there, the date is also stated in the text).

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Excursus: A Curious Feature: Loans of Money with Interest in Kind At present, twelve loans of money stipulating that interest be repaid in kind are known.7 Apart from H.E.Finckhs remarks,8 this relatively rare form of credit, described as a curious feature by A.C. Johnson and L.C. West9, has never been the subject of a systematic examination. The present edition of P.Col.inv. 46 offers an opportunity to compile and analyze all available evidence. In doing so, I hope to improve our understanding of the characteristics of such loans as well as their relationship to the larger socio-economic context of Late Antique Egypt. Loans in money with interest in kind are found from the middle of the 4th10 to the first quarter of the 7th century AD.11 It is revealing that the appearance of this particular type of loan is contemporaneous with the increased frequency of loans of money with whole repayment in kind a practice also called sale on delivery. Indeed, both phenomena must be understood in the economic context of the period, that is one of inflation peaks in the prices of commodities and, consequently, important debasements of the currency despite official fixed rates.12 Because it allowed a borrower to repay with commodities he produced, a loan in money with repayment in kind may have provided the borrower with easier and safer access to the currency he needed. This was all the more true with regard to loans in solidi since this currency was not affected by monetary debasements.13 A repayment in kind may also have secured the creditor against any loss throughout the lending period. Mostly, it allowed him to bypass the official interest rate for loans in money, which was usually fixed at 12%,14 in comparison with an official 50% rate for loans in kind.15 Thus the increased frequency of loans in money, and more particularly in solidi, together with theSee BGU 12.2140 intro.; N.Gonis, P.Wash.inv.16+23: Loan of Money with Interest in Kind, ZPE 129 (2000) 185-186; H.C. Youtie, P.Mich. inv. 406: Loan of Money with Interest in Kind, ZPE 23 (1976) 139-142. 8 H.E.Finckh, Das Zinsrecht der grko-gyptischen Papyri (Nrnberg 1962) 87-88. 9 A.C.Johnson and L.C.West, Byzantine Egypt: Economic Studies (Princeton 1949) 170. 10 SB 14.12088 (AD 346) and P.Col. inv.46 (AD 340-410). 11 BGU 3.725 (AD 618). 12 See R.S.Bagnall, Price in Sale on Delivery, GRBS 18 (1977) 85-96 and bibl. 13 See Bagnall (n.3) 55. 14 See CPR 7, pp. 162-163: Exkurs 5. 15 In reality, 4th century loans often suggest significantly higher rates: P.Kellis 1, pp. 115-119. See however D.Foraboschi and A.Gara, Sulla differenza tra tassi di interesse in natura e in moneta, Proceedings of the Sixteenth International Congress of Papyrology7

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spread of the use of gold currency for important transactions during the 4th century, seems to have in many respects been motivated by the will of both lenders and borrowers to minimize costs and to maximize the security and profitability of their assets.16 Although we may assume that the loan of money with interest in kind shared some of the advantages of the loan of money with whole repayment in kind, its appearance in the course of the 4th century surely answered more specific needs. In other words: what could have been the advantages of repaying only the interest in kind? To answer this question, the features of all available loans of money with interest in kind ought to be examined. The table at the end provides, chronologically, information related to the dating, location, identities of lender and borrower, amount loaned, interest and duration of each loan of this type. Apart from P.Oxy. 8.1130 (in which an inhabitant of Alexandria lends money to a villager of Senokomis in the Oxyrhynchite nome), all loans involve creditors and debtors living within the same nome. Moreover, the identity, status and origin of the lenders and borrowers fit the polites-to-villager pattern described more than 25 years ago by J.Keenan.17 Indeed, most of the lenders are designated as city-dwellers and several of them are said to be imperial and military officials18 or clerics,19 whereas the borrowers are mostly villagers or farmers living in farmsteads (epoikia) belonging to the territory of a city.20 P.Col. inv. 46 could be considered yet(New York 1980) 335-343, who show how charging interest in kind was not necessarily always more profitable to the creditor. 16 On all these matters, see R.S. Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity (Princeton 1993) 73-78; Bagnall (n.3) 54-55 and (n.12) 85-96; D.Foraboschi and A.Gara, Leconomia dei crediti in natura (Egitto), Athenaeum 60 (1982) 69-83, and (n.15); J.G.Keenan, On Village and Polis in Byzantine Egypt, Proceedings of the Sixteenth International Congress of Papyrology (New York 1980) 479-485; see also, on a related matter, J.-M. Carri, Solidus et crdit: quest-ce que lor a pu changer? in E. Lo Cascio (ed.), Credito e moneta nel mondo romano (Bari 2003) 265-279; A.Jrdens, Kaufpreisstundungen (Sales on Credit), ZPE 98 (1993) 263-282. 17 Keenan (n.16). 18 See SB 14.12088, where the lender, Flavius Nilos, is said to be officialis for the office of the governor of Augustamnica; BGU 12.2140, involving as creditor Flavius Taurinus, son of Plousammon, commissary-general (: l. 5) in Hermopolis; and P.Grenf. 2.90, where Ioannes, son of Akindunos a notarius of Apollonopolis (most probably Apollonopolis Heptakomia: see BL 11:97) plays the same role. 19 See P.Warr. 10, where the creditor is a certain Georgios, designed as [ [, ] [() (ll. 6-7) and BGU 3.725, with Apa Ol as the lender. 20 In both cases, Oxyrhynchus: P.Warr. 10 and PSI 3.239.

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another manifestation of this socio-economic pattern, for it implies a lender, if not from a polis, nonetheless from a Fayumic village of considerable size (Philadelpheia), and a debtor from what seems to have been a smaller rural settlement (Perkeesis). Other instances of this pattern can be observed in P.Rain.Cent. 86 = SPP 20.103, where Aurelius Leontios, an inhabitant of Herakleopolis of unknown status, lends 5 solidi to Aurelius Kephalon, son of Theodoros and Sophia, deacon of the village of Tamoro, as well as in P.Grenf. 2.90, where Flavius Psen opserios, son of Anoubion, a soldier stationed probably in Apollonopolis Heptakomia, borrows a little less then 6 solidi from Ioannes, son of Akindynos, notarius in the same city. Two pairs of debtors belonging to the same family (brothers in the case of P.Warr.10 and husband and wife in PSI 3.23921) are also attested. Another woman appears as the only borrower in BGU 3.725. Thus, even though known through a relatively limited number of documents, the loan of money with interest in kind seems to have been concluded by an interesting variety of creditor-debtor tandems. The same statement can be made about the geographical setting of these loans. Indeed, the documents so far published come from many nomes: Arsinoite (2, maybe 3), Oxyrhynchite(5), Herakleopolite (1), Hermopolite (1), Apollonopolite Parva (maybe 1), and Antinoite (1). We should not consider it a regional practice, but rather a strategy that was geographically widespread, perhaps even more so than what the surviving evidence shows. Concerning the amounts involved, apart from one loan of 50 silver talents,22 all loans are in gold solidi, the amounts ranging from 1 to 10. The overwhelming prevalence of loans in solidi may result from the advantages associated with this less volatile currency. This phenomenon, together with the fact that almost all loans postdate the period when debasements or retariffings were causing what looks like inflation, shows that loans of money with interest in kind were not specifically aimed at protecting the value of the amounts lent against monetary debasement. As for the duration of the loans, among the twelve documents compiled, four had to be repaid at the will of the lender, three at the end of a relatively short period of respectively one, four or six months and two were of unspecified duration. Lacunas prevent us from reaching any conclusions concerning the three remaining loans. It is worth noting that in five loans the interest was not fixed, but corresponded to a certain quantity calculated on a daily, monthly or yearly basis and21 In that case, the wife appears as the lender-narrator of the loan: ] () [] [], (ll. 7-9). 22 SB 14.12088, which also happens to be the earliest dated loan of the corpus.

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extending over the whole duration of the loan (see P.Wrzb. 17 for a parallel involving a standard loan in money). Interest payments corresponding to the periodic delivery of commodities (whether food, fodder or textile) could have provided the creditor with regular (and fresh) supply while allowing the borrower to repay a certain part of the sum owed with commodities (which, as is the case in BGU 3.725, might often have been produced within the borrowers household). Most of all, one may see in this type of arrangement a convenient way for both creditors and debtors to minimize their vulnerability to price fluctuations.23 As for repayment at the will of the lender, it may have represented for the creditor a particularly interesting way to maximize the profitability of the transaction by extending or shortening at will the length of the loan. Considering the fact that, in our corpus, the loans with a fixed term were never meant to last more than six months, most loans with repayment at the will of the lender were probably meant as short term credits.24 The same logic may have applied to loans of unspecified duration, although in that case, one may suppose that the borrower could also have influenced the date of repayment. As for the nature of the interest, it covers a wide variety of agricultural products: vegetables, wheat, wine, flax, fodder, birds and, if the translation proposed for in P.Col. inv.46 is correct, legumes. Wheat, while present, is not prevalent, and the diversity of commodities employed in repayment reflects the variety of agricultural activities practiced in Late Antique Egypt. As noted by R.S.Bagnall, this in turn likely reflects the generalization of credit as a means of doing business among the population as a whole.25 That wider population included various specialists such as the borrower in BGU 3.725.7, who describes himself as a bird keeper (). To sum up, the general impression one gets from the known loans of money with interest in kind is that of a relative heterogeneity: in the origin of the loan, the amount loaned, the duration of the loan and the nature of the interest. Such a diversity certainly reflects the spatio-temporal and socioeconomic peculiarities of each transaction. It may also illustrate the flexibility, or even the creativity associated with credit practices in Late Antique Egypt, a phenomenon that was in itself a dynamic continuum, but which also, in the context of that period, reflected the attempts of individuals to cope with the evolving economic contexts of their times through innovative strategies. The same could be said about the loans in money with interest in kind themselves, Bagnall (n.16) 75. Compare with the sales on credit with known length, which all lasted from 1 to 5.5 months: Jrdens (n.16) 268 and 273. 25 Bagnall (n.16) 74.23 24

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which, together with sales on credit and the increasing frequency of sales on delivery, appear as a form of credit specific to the Byzantine period. Finally, the tricky issue of the rates of interest implied in these loans. Overall, due to the scantiness, incompleteness and contextual specificities of the available evidence, the more general question of the history of currencies and prices in Late Antique Egypt remains a very complex one.26 Although loans in money with interest in kind are no exception, we nevertheless possess some clues. Since, as stated above (supra note to l.7), the general ratio for wheat and legumes in Egypt throughout the Byzantine period was for the most part 8-12 artabas per solidus, the following interest rate ranges can be obtained for loans in money involving interest in wheat and legumes:27Date 340410 432 467 or 497 6th cent. Amount loaned 1 gold solidus 8.5 gold solidi 1 gold solidus 1.75 gold solidi Interest 3 artabas of legumes 8.5 artabas of wheat yearly 2.5 artabas of wheat yearly 4 artabas of wheat Duration ? Unspecified At the will of the lender ? Yearly interest rate (%) 25-37.5% minimum 8.33-12.5% 20.83-31.5% [25%?] 19.05-28.7% Reference P.Col. inv. 46 BGU 12.2140 P.Wash. 1.16+23

SB 8.9772

P.Col. inv. 46: See above, note to l. 7. Most evidence concerning the gold value of beans and lentils suggests a ratio of 10-11 artabas per solidus.28 This would here amount to minimal yearly rates of 30% and 27.27% respectively. The former, easily calculated rate seems more likely, although a 25% rate is perhaps equally probable, and would imply a price ratio of 12 artabas per solidus. BGU 12.2140: R.S.Bagnall has already noted that the interest rate seems low, and that perhaps wheat was expensive at the time.29 The interest rate of 8.33% obtained with a ratio 1 solidus = 12 artabas would be very surprising since it stands much below the official 12% rate for loans in money. A solidus buying 8 artabas of wheat would bring us to 12.5% interest, roughly the legal For lists and discussion of 4th century prices, see Bagnall (n. 3); Bagnall and Sijpesteijn (note to l. 8) 111-124; R.S.Bagnall and K.A.Worp, Commodity Prices in P.Stras. 595, ZPE 27 (1977) 161-164. 27 In the case of the remaining loans, our evidence for the gold prices of the commodities repaid as interest are too scant to allow satisfactory estimates. 28 Bagnall (n.3) 8. 29 Bagnall (n.16) 75, n.184.26

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rate. Although significantly lower than the other three loans discussed here, this rate is nevertheless entirely possible. P.Wash. 1.16+23: Since divisors of 100% seem to have been a very common means of fixing interest rates in loans from this period,30 the 2.5 artabas of wheat to be repaid as interest correspond in all likelihood to a yearly rate of 25%.31 This would suggest a solidus purchased 10 artabas of wheat. SB 8.9772: We know that in the 6th century, the official price of wheat stood around 10 artabas per solidus. This would here imply a rate of 22.86%, while rates of 20% and 25% would correspond to ratios of 11.43 and 9.14 artabas per solidus. Thus three out of the four loans of money with an interest in wheat or legumes seem to have been subject to a yearly interest rate of or close to 25%. This would tend to strengthen the idea that this specific form of loan allowed one to get around usury laws without getting the whole repayment in kind. As for BGU 12.2140, its apparent conformity to the official regulation can be justified by a whole array of contextual factors that go beyond solely the creditors quest for profit.32 Such considerations now lead us to address the question previously asked, namely whether there were particular advantages to charging/repaying only the interest in kind. The available evidence concerning the socio-economic contexts of the known loans of this type tend to show that they were compromises, intermediaries ground in a sense, between the standard loans in money and the loans in money with repayment in kind or sales on delivery. In that respect, a parallel may be drawn between the mixed quality of this type of loan, and the sale on credit, which has been described as a mixed type between a sale and a loan.33 The specific advantages associated with this hybrid form of credit certainly varied according to each case. Nevertheless, in all instances it likely provided both parties with a convenient way to reconcile the desire to maximize the profitability of ones assets without getting the whole repayment in kind with the taxpayers need to have access to currency or agricultural commodities. As was generally the case with loans, the desire for profitability was surely often a primary concern, but it has been shown that this was not necessarily always the case and that social factors such as the reciprocal exchange of favors some P.Kellis 1.40-47 intro., p. 119. Gonis (n.7) note to l. 5: but the rate could also have been higher, e.g. 25%. 32 See Foraboschi and Gara (n.16), who stress the value of credit in terms of social networking. 33 Mischtypen zwischen Kauf und Darlehen: Jrdens (n.16) 276-280.30 31

An Arsinoite Loan of Money

107

times played a role. Likewise, in some cases loans of money with repayment of the interest in kind were probably but one feature of financial arrangements resulting from a complex ensemble of factors and dynamics that went well beyond the strictly economic realm. All in all, a curious but convenient feature.

5 metra of At the will of P.Grenf. wine per the lender 2.90 solidus yearly Wine At the will of SB 10.10524 (quantity lost) the lender At the will of P.Warr. 10 the lender

531

Antinoopolis

[ ] Kallinikos (Antinoe)

591-592

Oxyrhynchus

Georgios (elder, church of Oxyrhynchus)

An Arsinoite Loan of Money

601

Oxyrhynchus

Aurelius Philoxenos, son of Papnouthios ([ ], Oxyrhynchus)

2 bundles of fodder

PSI 3.239

618

Arsinoe

Apa Ol

Aurelius Sambas, son of Kollouthos (bird keeper) and Eupraxia, daughter of Petros and maid of Kyrillos, magister militum of Arsinoe

3 gold solidi less 23.25 carats

3 big birds

1 month BGU 3.725 (Epeiph 27 to Mesore 30)

109

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 111-116

A Lease of Urban Property from Hermopolis1

Andrew Connor University of Cincinnati

Abstract Edition of a sixth-century papyrus from Hermopolis, recording a lease by a woman of urban real estate with one door and one lock. P.Vindob. inv. G. 13349, an urban lease on an annual payment plan, is one of many texts from Hermopolis now in the collection of the Austrian National Library.2 In this text, an unknown woman undertakes to lease an enclosed space with one door and one lock for an unknown period at a rent of five thousand talents a year. Though much of the text is missing, especially at the top and left, quite a bit can be reconstructed from parallels in other, similar lease agreements.3 The language of the text displays many examples of Hermopolitan phrasing.4 Nearly the entirety of the surviving text is composed of legal I am especially grateful to Peter van Minnen for his invaluable aid throughout my work on this papyrus, as well as to the anonymous referees for their helpful comments and suggestions. All dates are AD. 2 For the history and organization of the Vienna papyri, see H. Loebenstein, Vom Papyrus Erherzog Rainer zur Papyrussammlung der sterreichischen Nationalbibliothek, P.Rain.Cent., pp. 3-13, 20-24. 3 From Hermopolis: P.Vindob.Sal. 12 (334/5), P.Lips. 17 (377), P.Giss. 52 (397), SB 8.9931 (405), P.Berl.Zill. 5 (417), P.Stras. 7.655 (2nd half of the 5th cent.), P.Bad. 4.91b (471), BGU 12.2162 (491), P.Lond. 3.1023 (5/6 cent.), P.Stras. 6.540 (6th cent.), P.Stras. 5.471 bis (= P.Flor. 1.73) (505), P.Stras. 5.338 (550), P.Stras. 4.247 (550/1), P.Stras. 1.4, P.Stras.4.248, less closely (560), BGU 12.2202 (565), BGU 12.2204 (574), P.Palau.Rib. 25 (= SB 14.11423) (6th/7th cent.), P.Flor. 1.13 (6th/7th cent.), and P.Kramer 15 (1st half of the 7th cent.). For a complete list, see H. Mller, Untersuchungen zur von Gebuden im Recht der grko-gyptischen Papyri (Kln 1985), especially 345-361. Not surprisingly, many of the leases from 6th century Hermopolis use similar formulaic language. 4 For instance, a search of the Duke Databank of Documentary Papyri shows that 81 of the 129 (63%) instances of in papyri with known provenance are from Hermopolis or the Hermopolitan nome. Meanwhile, 105 of 171 (61%) of all provenanced instances of are Hermopolitan.1

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formulae, as the clauses concerning the starting date of the lease, the location of the property, and the contracting parties are all lost, aside from the references in line 5 to the lessors in the plural and in line 9 to the lessee as a woman. The unnamed female lessee joins the few women who appear as lessees in the papyri. Leases by a woman are uncommon but not exactly rare. For others, see Aurelia Paesis (from the substantially similar P.Giss. 52) in 397, Aurelia Eirene (P.Berl. Zill. 5) in 417, both of Hermopolis, Aurelia Didyme (P.Oxy. 16.1957) in 430, Aurelia Nonna (SB 4.7445) in 382, Aurelia Sophia (SB 24.15925 = P.Oxy. 16.1963) in the 6th century, and Herais, daughter of Iakinthus (PSI 6.709) in 566, all of Oxyrhynchus, Aurelia Ama Rachel (P.Cair. Masp. 3.67302) of Aphrodito in 555, and Aurelia Tasia (P.Haun. 3.55) of Dinneos koite in 325.5 Aurelia Tasia held the ius liberorum and acted without a guardian. Two Hermopolite women in the 6th century did the same according to a similar formula, .6 The other women named above seem to be acting with a fair degree of freedom, but, following Arjava, we might expect most women in 6th century Egypt to be without a formal guardian, though perhaps with an unofficial .7 Unfortunately, without the critical earlier sections listing our lessees name and, possibly, her guardian, we cannot decide the matter in this case. P.Vindob. inv. G. 13349 W x H = 8.5 cm x 10 cm Hermopolis, 6th century The document has been damaged at the top, left, and bottom, with text missing on all three sides. At the bottom, at least the witnesses and the notarial subscription are lost. The surviving papyrus has been slightly damaged, but is largely intact. The verso is blank. The text is written with the fibers, in a fluid cursive hand, with substantial vertical elements above and below the line. A second, similar, but more compact hand in lines 9-10 displays the traditional formula of a literate writer signing on behalf of an illiterate contracting party, in this case, the unnamed woman.Twenty-one of twenty-three uses of are Hermopolitan. In comparison, leases from the rest of Egypt display different at times, very different legal formulae. 5 Aurelia Nonna features more notably in SB 4.7449. See R. Frakes, Contra potentium inurias (Munich 2001) 212-215. For a woman leasing rooms in the earlier Roman period, see now A. Benassa, ZPE 172 (2010) 177-178. 6 SB 16.12864 (= P.Lond. 3.867) from 506 and P.Flor. 3.323 from 525. Both of these are of type J described by J.Beaucamp in her Statut de la femme Byzance, Vol. 2 (Paris 1992) 197-212, esp. 201. The formula is partly reconstructed in SB 16.12864, but appears nearly complete in P.Flor. 3.323. 7 A. Arjava, The Guardianship of Women in Roman Egypt, Akten des 21. Internationalen Papyrologenkongresses (Stuttgart 1997) 1:25-30, esp. 29-30.

A Lease of Urban Property

113

Based upon the formulae reconstructed to the left of the surviving text, around sixteen characters have been lost to the left, with more in lines 6-8, where the damage extends for another two to three characters. 1 [ ] .. [ ] [ ] . [ . ] 2 [ ] 3 [ ] 4 [ ] () 5 [ ] 6 [ ] 7 [ ] 8 [. ] () (). 9 (m.2) [ ] () (). 10 [ ] () () 11 [ .] vacat 2 : sigma continues to line end 4 / 5 8 / / 9 /; / 10 / /; ... for my use and occupation (?) for a rent of 5000 silver talents each year, which rent I will pay to you at the end of each year without delay, and whenever you wish to have it back, I will hand over to you ... with one door and one key just as I received it without any damage save wear and tear alone. The lease is valid and secure and, having been questioned, I agreed. (m. 2) I, Aurelia (?) ..., the aforementioned, have leased as aforementioned. I ... from Hermopolis, wrote on her behalf at her request, because she does not know how to. 1 At the end of the line we expect the end of the designation of the property (presumed to be urban) in Hermopolis. The current reconstruction of line 2 fills the lacuna with sixteen letters. The traditional formula ( ) does not fit there, but reading at the end of line 1 and shifting before this in line 1 would make for an unaccountably short second line. Further, the letter preceding cannot really be epsilon. In no other case does precede , and this question is more safely left unanswered than solved by hypothesizing an otherwise unattested scribal innovation. It is extremely likely that the phrase was something akin to , which formula does appear twice in Hermopolitan leases

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without .8 It is also possible that the missing lines contain a contaminated and thus unpredictable formula. There are a small number of surviving examples from Hermopolis featuring variations on the basic formula ( or vice versa) given here.9 2 The oversize tail of the sigma ending this line is comparable to that ending line 7, though this sigma is given significantly more room to run. One can contrast this, however, to that of line 10, where the second hand writes a shorter, hooked sigma. 3 For other rents of similar amount, see P.Lond. 3.1023 (5th-6th century), leasing one half of a house for 2800 talents/year, BGU 12.2204 (574), one room for 3600 talents/year, or P.Vindob. Sijp. 11 (453), an undefined piece of property for 6000 talents/year.10 The value of the rent in our papyrus (5000 talents) was equal to that needed to purchase a baby pig in Hermopolis in the 6th century.11 4 Lease terms are more often payable yearly than daily, monthly, or for a multi-year period.12 The size of the space being leased does not seem to affect the decision to pay a monthly or yearly rent: half of a house is rented with a yearly payment in P.Stras. 655 (2nd half of the 5th cent.), while two-thirds of a house are rented with a monthly payment in P.Bad. 91b (471). 5 The normal form of this phrase could also use the optative (), but this would create a line of eighteen letters rather than the current (and preferable) sixteen. The dative plural is noteworthy. The verb and the dative plural appear together fifteen times in other papyri, five of them from Hermopolis.13See P.Berl.Zill. 5, P.Lips.1.17. CPR 9.8 (6th century), P.Vind.Sal. 12 (beginning of 334), and P.Lips. 1.13.7-8 (364). 10 See K.A. Worp, Bemerkungen zur Hhe der Wohnungsmiete in einigen Papyri aus dem byzantinischen gypten, Tyche 3 (1998) 273-275. 11 SB 4.7369.25-26, dated to 512. For the interrelation and relative values of the coinage systems, real and fictitious, in 6th century Egypt, see K. Maresch, Nomisma und Nomismatia (Opladen 1993) 49-71. West and Johnson, meanwhile, argue that the smallest unit of calculation for the talent in the 6th century was fifty talents. See L.C. West and A.C. Johnson, Currency in Roman and Byzantine Egypt (Princeton 1944) 126, taken up by K.A. Worp, ZPE 172 (2010) 167-169. 12 A. Berger, Wohnungsmiete und Verwandtes in den grko-gyptischen Papyri, Zeitschrift fr vergleichende Rechtswissenschaft 29 (1913) 377-391. 13 P.Berl.Zill. 5, P.Giss. 52, P.Stras. 1.4, P.Stras. 5.338, and P.Stras. 6.539. Eight of the fifteen date to the 6th century, and another four date to the fifth or seventh century.8 9

A Lease of Urban Property

115

We might expect an arrangement similar to that of P.Stras. 1.4, in which two sisters rent out one eighth of a house, presumably an undivided inheritance. 6 We can assume that the lost part of the line mentioned the rental space in question. Compare, e.g., of P.Stras. 6.540, of SB 8.9931, or of P.Berl.Mller 3 (= SB 4.7340). We can expect twelve or thirteen missing letters.14 The single door and key are rare. P.Berl.Mller 3 features a single door and key ( [] ) in the lease of a single bedroom. A single key appears in BGU 2.606.15, with a similar spelling variant ( in place of ), as a , but with multiple doors.15 Alternately, one can see a single door with multiple keys in BGU 19.2822. We can regard the expression in our For a range of potential rental properties, see Mller (n. 3) 142-160. A. Erman and F. Krebs (Aus den Papyrus der Kniglichen Museen, Berlin 1899, 203) translate this as a Schlssel zum Ausgang. This might be a situation similar to the14 15

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text as the singular form of the more familiar , and we can safely construe with both the key and the door. It is tempting to surmise from the single door and key that the enclosed space being rented is rather small (comparable to the bedroom in P.Berl.Mller 3) especially as the rent to be paid is of a relatively small amount, but with all descriptions of the property in question lost, this can only be speculation.16 7 The reconstructed text is nineteen letters, consonant with the slightly larger gap in lines 6-8. The lack of an abbreviation mark used elsewhere by the writer of this text signals that - is carried to the next line. The phrase itself ( ... ) appears in five instances, all Hermopolitan. One of these has been reconstructed.17 The other four are cleanly split between and .18 By the late fourth century in Hermopolis, however, the latter phrase seems to have been conceived of as .19 8 The final mark (/) is slightly more complicated than a lambda and abbreviation mark. It is hard to see what else the scribe could have intended, so we might take this as a particularly florid swoop, perhaps the most florid in a hand given to prolific elongation and descenders.

found in P.Tebt. 1.45 and 47, among others. For more, see G. Husson, Oikia (Paris 1983) 98-106. 16 Unfortunately, the use of the term does not help with this question either, as the specific use of the term had, by the Byzantine period, become interchangeable with . For more, see Mller (n. 3) 218-220. 17 BGU 17.2684. 18 The former: SB 8.9931 (330) and P.Berl.Zill. 5 (417). The latter: P.Lips. 1.17 (377) and P.Giss. 52 (397). 19 Both P.Lips. 1.17 and P.Giss. 52 read , corrected by their respective editors to in both cases. The two papyri date to 377 and 397 respectively. Both examples do appear in relatively damaged sections. P.Lips. 1.17 is inconclusive, but P.Giss. 52 does seem to read . This tendency is not restricted to Hermopolis, however, for which see N. Kruit and K.A. Worp, Zur Auflsung der Krzung ( ) in den Papyri, Tyche 18 (2003) 55-57.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 117-130

A Rhythmical Arrangement of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis1

Alexander Kouznetsov Moscow State University

Abstract This paper deals with the clausular structure of the fragmentary Latin historical text traditionally referred to as the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis (P.Oxy. 1.30). A study of its punctuation shows that four clausula endings survive on the recto. This allows us to study the anonymous historians clausular arrangement. His clausular rhythms appear to be very close to that of the so-called historical system typical of Sallust. This fact seriously undermines accepted wisdom that the author was Pompeius Trogus, since his extant texts shows that he avoided such clausulae. Fragments of Lucius Arruntius, by contrast, show a striking resemblance to the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis in clausular rhythm and recommend him as the possible author. 1. The Text The scrap of parchment (Brit. Libr. pap. 745) known as the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis (published as P.Oxy. 1.30, C.Pap.Lat. 43; cf. CLA 22.207, MP3 3000, LDAB 4472) is considered the oldest extant codex in Latin. Although Grenfell and Hunt, who proposed Pompeius Trogus as the author, refused to date it to a period earlier than the third century, Mallon demonstrated that it must have been written vers lan 100 de notre re.2 After Mallons, the most important study of the fragment is that of Wingo, who examined its punctua1 The gist of this paper was read on June 2007 at the 11th Memorial Tronsky Conference organized by the Institute of Linguistic Studies (Russian Academy of Science, St. Petersburg); an abstract was published in Indoevropejskoe Jazykoznanije i Klassieskaja Filologija 11 (2007) 198-201. I would like to thank Prof. Paul Schubert (Universit de Genve) and Mrs. Marina Veksina (Freie Universitt, Berlin) for reading earlier drafts. I am also grateful to the anonymous BASP reader for helpful comments and constructive criticism. 2 J. Mallon, Emerita 17 (1949) 1-8. CLA 22.207 reported Mallon's article in the supplementary bibliography, but did not change its date for the fragment (II AD).

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tion.3 Although Mallons date does not exclude the possibility that Trogus wrote the piece, this paper will offer reasons to reject that attribution.4 The following transcript is based on the text and the plate in P.Oxy. and on the reconstruction by Cavenaile in C.Pap.Lat.; Wingos transcript is also taken into account.5 Punctuation and accentuation are printed as in P.Oxy. Grenfell and Hunt transcribe only few word-dividing dots on the verso, which all are hardly visible. However, one may expect that these signs were used on the verso as frequently as on the recto. NB: indicates a wide blank space. Recto Verso 1 . r t . . . [ 1 ] tum imperi 2 ]er superat e . [ 2 ]q ue prefect 3 ]o q rex hieme c[ 3 ] satis pollrent 4 ]h . . cave pact[ 4 ]us atque Antioch[us] 5 ]s illi pax R[ma]n[ 5 ge]neris dspect 6 ] coi t tran s . . . [ 6 gen]tsque alinas 7 ] Roma[ . . ]qui [ 7 sp]ectrent 8 ] Thrac . [ . ]m at[ 8 ] Philippus 9 ]m auxilieis [ 9 ]ne ant[ 10 ]errexit [ 10 ]validi[ 11 ] P hrygia[ 12 ] . . [ Recto 10 ]validio[, i.e., validior, may be preferable to ]validiq, i.e., validique. Verso 3 hieme is followed by a suprascript, m-shaped blur. This may be a correction: hiemem; editors are silent. Verso 5 R[ma]n[: Grenfell and Hunt observe that ma would barely fit the lacuna. The compression suggests there may have been a correction: something like ma would take a shorter space. Verso 6 coi t : The first editors note that the c has been re-written.3 E.O. Wingo, Latin Punctuation in the Classical Age (The Hague and Paris 1972) 61-65 (hereafter Wingo). Before Wingo the punctuation of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis was briefly discussed in R.W. Mller, Rhetorische und syntaktische Interpunktion (dissertation Tbingen 1964) 50 (hereafter Mller). 4 O. Seel included the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis as fr. 13, lib. 31 in Pompei Trogi Fragmenta (Lipsiae 1956), but in the apparatus he frankly expresses his scepticism: Ceterum res adhuc in incerto est; admodum sane mirum esset, si profecto Trogi fragmentum tale inveniretur; nihilo minus rem silentio praeterire nolui, cum eius interdum mentio fieri soleat ... 5 The left edge of the recto is almost vertical. Its right edge slopes toward the lower right and then back again so that the center, at line 4, is about 3 cm. wider than the top or bottom. Line 1 on the verso is written at a 90 angle.

The Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis

119

Immediately after the fragment was published, Diels attributed it to Ennius,6 but this claim encounters an obvious obstacle. Although, in fact, it is possible to force the text to fit the structure of the hexameter, this would mean that as many as four lines on the recto (2, 5, 7, and probably 3) have spondees in the fifth metron. In line 3, the spondee might be avoided only if pyrrhic satis (that is sati) falls after the third foot caesura. This, however, would make the rest of the verse too long to fit the space that was probably available at the end of the line. The evident survival of four lines with a spondaic fifth foot, from a total of ten, weakens the hexameter interpretation and makes Ennius an unlikely author, since in his Annales only about ten such lines occur among about 400 fully preserved verses.7 As I shall show, however, these spondaic structures are of crucial importance for understanding the rhythm and determining the authorship of the fragment. 2. The Punctuation and Colometry The scribe regularly divides words with dots, some of which are written on the line, and some closer to a middle position. Wingo also noticed two other forms of punctuation, the sicilicus and the blank space, used either alone or in combination.8 In each case, this additional punctuation follows a worddividing dot. Thus, we find: sicilicus sicilicus followed by a long space long space without sicilicus long space without sicilicus superat sp]ectrent prefect dspect verso line 2 recto line 7 recto line 2 recto line 5

It is clear, as Wingo pointed out, that all these signs signal the end of syntactical clauses. Though the exact syntactical value of the signs and their combinations cannot be established, Wingo was inclined to accept that the sicilicus and the blank space were used as markers of various grades of division, the former being not so strong a mark of punctuation as the latter.9 Thus,6 H. Diels, Sitzungberichte d. knigl. Preuss. Akademie d. Wissenschaften zu Berlin (1898) 497, the summary of a lecture. 7 The Annals of Q. Ennius, ed. O. Skutsch (Oxford 1985) lines 33, 116-118, 157, 179, 190, 286, 305, 371, 498, 621, dub. 9, spur. 1; see also A. Cordier, Les dbuts de lhexamtre latin: Ennius (Paris 1947) 34. 8 Wingo 62. 9 Wingo 63. The use of the blank space as a punctuation sign is generalized in Wingo 127-131.

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being a relatively strong sign of punctuation, blank space would appear accordingly rare. However, in the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis all three cases of punctuation by long space occur within five lines at the right-hand edge of the recto. This seems to imply that a scribe left a blank space whenever the end of a colon fell near the right margin. On the verso, where the text lies closer to the left-hand side of the column, it is impossible to draw any conclusion about the punctuation of line-ends. Thus, the use of blank space markers partially depended on the layout of a page. This presumption is evidently contradicted by the fact that both a blank space alone and a blank space combined with a sicilicus occur. But the coupling of punctuation signs does not necessarily mean that their values were in some way additional. Suppose that a blank space regularly followed a sicilicus if the latter appeared close to the margin edge. In this position a sicilicus became semantically superfluous, and a scribe might occasionally drop it. This does not exclude the use of a blank space as a specific sign within the body of the page. In any case, the fragment is too small to make a final judgement. It must be observed that writing in unjustified lines is not uncommon for Latin literary papyri.10 The fragment of a papyrus codex of Sallust, P.Oxy 6.884 (5th cent.),11 containing Catilina 6.1-7, may form a close parallel to the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis as far as the page layout and the punctuation are concerned. Although in P.Oxy 6.884 word breaks are used, the text is unjustified. No word-dividing signs are visible, but the system of punctuation is rather complicated, and it includes blank spaces which appear within a line (verso 1, 3, recto 8) as well as at a line-end (verso 10).12 Some further observations can be made on the colometry of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis, when we try to estimate the probable width of the space which divides the extant right-hand edge of the recto and the lost margin. At recto line 4, which is written at the widest part of the parchment, there are traces of a letter after Antioch[. If we assume that Antioch[ was the last word written in that line, then we can use it as the standard against which to calculate the approximate length of other lines. The corresponding space at recto line10 The fragment of a papyrus roll of Ciceros In Verrem 2, 2, 2 (P.Iand. 5.90, C.Pap.Lat. 20, Mller 47, Wingo 50-54) may be an appropriate example. It demonstrates that an unjustified right-hand margin does not mean a negligent and haste writing. In P.Iand. 5.90 blank spaces at line-ends are combined with elegant strokes, and the whole arrangement of the right-hand margin is evidently ornamental. 11 Corpus dei papiri storici greci e latini. Parte B. Storici latini. 1. Autori noti. Caius Sallustius Crispus, a cura di Rodolfo Funari (Pisa and Roma 2008) 33-50. 12 Mller 43, 137-138. Compare Wingo 67 on the Oratio Claudii (P.Berol. 8507, BGU 2.611). Unfortunately, blank spaces are not marked in Wingos transcript.

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7, where the surviving parchment is much narrower, would extend three or even four letters of the width of n. In recto line 3, where only the left stroke of the final T actually survives, pollrent [] or (better) pollrent [ ] can be restored, with some blank space before the presumed margin edge. This blank space may be equivalent to three (or possibly two) n letters. In recto line 6 some letters may have vanished after alinas; that is, it appears text rather than additional punctuation followed this word. My reconstruction of pollrent [ ], combined with the presence of finite verbs at the ends of cola strengthens the impression that the fragment preserves the markers delimiting the syntactic cola of a single, long period. What we have, then, is two pairs of cola connected by homoeoptota: praefecti ~ despecti and pollerent ~ spectarent. 3. The Rhythm The fragment shows rather elaborated rhythmical structure. Four cola discernible on the recto end with a three-syllable word that constitutes a molossus; the previous word, where legible, forms part of the clausula. In metrical analyses, I use the sign # to indicate word-breaks: ... que praefect |... # | satis pollrent | # | generis dspect | # | spectrent |# | verso line 2 recto line 3 recto line 5 recto line 7

We are thus faced with an accumulation of clausulae based on the molossus. This kind of rhythmical arrangement is rare situation in classical Latin prose, particularly with unusual molossi in a dispondaic ending. The singularity of the dispondaic rhythm of this kind is verified by Quintilian, who considers a short syllable to be a necessary antecedent for a molossus at the end of a clausula: ... apparet molosson [i.e. a molossus word] quoque clausulae conuenire, dum habeat ex quocumque pede ante se breuem (Inst. 9.4.101). At least the cola in lines 3 and 5 of the recto violate this rule. In fact, despite Quintilians strictures, dispondaic clausulae do sometimes occur, and they are a well-recognised feature of the so-called historical type of Latin rhythmical prose, whose most important representative is Sallust.13 A comparison between the prose rhythms

H. Aili, The Prose Rhythm of Sallust and Livy (Stockholm 1979) 61-75 (hereafter Aili), the molossus clausulae are discussed in Aili 92-96, for the patterns of word division see Aili 137, Table A 2.13

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of Sallust and those of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis is therefore the next proper concern. Aili employed a table of 32 six-syllable patterns in his description of the clausulae used by Sallust. By calculating their relative frequency in the text of Sallust, he was able to identify the authors eight favorite clausular patterns.14 Of these eight, three end in a molossus (here and passim, the numeration is that of Aili, and stands for a syllable that can be either long or short): No. 26 . 30 . 31 || || ||

On the recto of the Fragmentum De Bellis Macedonicis we can find two clausulae which match the endings of one of these six syllable patterns: No. 26 . 30 ... ... ... que praefect, recto line 215 satis pollrent, recto line 316

One dispondaic structure in the fragment has a metrical pattern that is frequent in Sallust, although it is not among his favorite clausulae: . 29 | | generis dspect, recto line 517 On the verso, an incomplete four-syllable structure also corresponds to the ending of certain other Sallustian favorites: s. 7-8 | ... | er superat, verso line 218

14 Aili 76. The 32 patterns can be seen below in the table in 7, the favorite Sallustian clausulae are Nos 7, 8, 14, 19, 20, 26, 30, 31. In general, I have adopted the method developed by Aili. The actual clausalae may be shorter or longer than six-syllable. For the critical review of Ailis procedures see S.M. Oberhelman, Prose Rhythm in Latin Literature of the Roman Empire: First century Century B.C. to Fourth Century A.D. (New York 2003). 15 This four syllable sequence fits Ailis Nos. 25-28, that is | |. Presuming that clausulae of the Fragmentum De Bellis Macedonicis were in general close to the Sallustian usage I reconstruct a short syllable before -que. This clausula could really match the pattern No. 26 | |. In fact, Sallust does not avoid short syllables before -que (e.g. aeternaque Cat. 1.4.2). 16 The five syllable pattern fits Ailis Nos. 29-30; see below, note 19. 17 The pattern No. 29 is not uncommon in Sallust, however, Aili 78 denies that Nos. 29 and 32 have occured in a frequency higher than that to be expected, the figures for No. 29 being 28 observed cases against 33 statistically expected according to Ailis calculations. 18 The four syllable sequence fits Ailis Nos. 5-8, | |. The clausular rhythm supports a restoration like frequent]er superat; cf. frequenter superatus in Frontin. Str.

The typical features of the historical system of clausulae are clearly recognizable in the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis. Small as it is, this feature suggests that its author was an assiduous imitator of Sallusts prose rhythms. 4. Authorship That Pompeius Trogus was deeply influenced by Sallust went for a long time unchallenged.20 That idea seems to be losing force, since Yardley has recently demonstrated that Sallusts impact on the language of Pompeius Trogus had been dramatically exaggerated. He argues, rather, for Livy as Trogus model.21 If Yardley is correct, this means that any vestiges of Sallustian style in the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis speak against its origin in Trogus Historiae Philippicae. We then need to consider who, if not Pompeius Trogus, is the author of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis. Little is known about imitators of Sallustian style who were active in the mid-1st century AD or earlier. We have still some information about Lucius Arruntius, who can make a plausible claim to authorship on both stylistic and chronological grounds. Arruntius is known from a sarcastic notice by Seneca, who criticizes a historian by that name as Sallustianus et in illud genus nitens (Ep. 114.17). Modern scholars unanimously identify this Arruntius with the

2.5.30. On the sequence of bacchius and anapaest, see Quint. Inst. 9.4.110. 19 The patterns used here by Sallust are the favorites Nos. 26, 30 and the not favorite No. 28. 20 For the most elaborate exposition of this view see M. Rambaud, REL 26 (1948) 171-189. 21 J.C. Yardley, Justin and Pompeius Trogus: A Study of the Language of Justins Epitome of Trogus (Toronto 2003) 10, 25.

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consul ordinarius of 22/732.22 Seneca refers to his work as historias belli Punici or in primo belli Punici, and its subject was certainly the First Punic War. Seneca cites seven examples of Arruntius style, in all likelihood, from the first book of the History of Punic War only. Some are long enough to fill a complete clause, while the shorter quotations can be understood, more or less convincingly, as clausulae. These seven fragments match the following Ailis patterns:23 No. 16 fr. 7 No. 21 fr. 5 fr. 6 No. 31 fr. 4 No. 32 fr. 1 fr. 2 fr. 3 (ingents esse) fms d Rgul (totus) hiemvit annus (... hiemante) aquilne msit (repente hi)emvit tempests (fug)am nostrs fcre (Hiero rex Syracus)nrum bellum fcit (quae audta Panhormitns ddere) Rmns fcre

Pattern No. 16 emerges among the structures favored by Cicero.24 Unfortunately, this quotation is unreliable, because it is reported in indirect speech and the exact genuine wording is hard to establish. Seneca may have added de Regulo in order to make the context more clear.25 In fact, he attacks the plural famae only,26 and no more than this word may have appeared in Arruntius text. No. 21 is of little value for clausular rhythm. More important are four examples representing the type with a dispondaic ending (Ailis Nos. 29-39). As we have already noticed, No. 31 is one of the Sallusts favorites, while No.

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32 is favored by Livy in the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Decades.27 The molossus endings tempestas and fecere (twice) are similar to that of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis. In Ep. 114.17 Seneca criticizes the vices of Sallust: anputatae sententiae et verba ante expectatum cadentia et obscura brevitas. The assault he makes upon Arruntius involves, at first sight, his obscura brevitas and his faults in the lexical semantics rather than any rhythmical or syntactical peculiarities. He may, however, bear clausular rhythm in mind, since at Ep. 114.15 he has been criticizing the clausulae of Cicero.28 In any case, the examples collected by Seneca in Ep. 114.17 are mostly clausular. He also cites three passages from Sallust as templates used by Arrruntius, and two of them happen to be clausulae: Hist. fr. 1. 27 exercitum argento fecit (for Arruntius fr. 1-3) and Hist. fr. 1.90 bonique famas petit (for fr. 7), which match the favorite patterns No. 31 and No. 14 respectively. Thus, the favorite No. 14 is held up as a Sallustian model for un-Sallustian fr. 7 of Arruntius. However, No. 16 is close to No. 14 (see the group 13-16 in Ailis Table), so the rhythm of these two Sallustian passages is similar to the corresponding examples drawn from Arruntius. The third quotation from Sallust is not a clausular one: aquis hiemantibus (a dactylic No. 10, for Arruntius fr. 4)29. In four cases corresponding to Ailis Nos. 31 and 32, the examples Seneca selects from Arruntius book, illustrate the rhythmical patterns typical of the historical system and of Sallust himself. These quotations resemble the clausulae of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis both in structure and in word division patterns. Although the fragments preserved by Seneca are too brief to allow any decisive judgment, what we learn of the rhythmical technique of Arruntius appears to be very similar to what we see in the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis.30

5. The Historical Clausular System and the Problem of Stylistic Coherence Sallust apparently preferred heavy clausulae. Four six-syllable patterns ending with a dispondee (Nos. 29-32) account for 27.5 % of all clausulae detectable in the extant works of Sallust, whereas the expected value calculated for Sallust is 20% (the figure based on the the data of Aili for the Coniuratio and the Iugurtha taken together).31 As noted above, the expansion of dispondees is typical in the historical system of clausulae that Sallust developed. This system was adopted by Livy from his tenth book onward: according to Aili, the normal level of the dispondaic syllable patterns grows from 22.3% in books 1-7 to 45.5% in books 21-42.32 Because of their exiguous size, the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis and Senecas quotations from Arruntius do not allow a valid statistical study. However, the predominance of dispondaic clausulae in both texts forces us to believe that the frequency of dispondaic clausulae in the complete versions must have been closer to Livys 45% than to Sallusts 28%. In fact, Ailis pattern No. 29, which we identified in the fragment, is one of the favorite clausulae in Livy 21-42. Livys adoption of the historical system of clausulae did not compel him, however, to accept other peculiarities of Sallustian style, and he is no mere imitator of Sallust. Given the obvious differences between the two historians in style, it is safe to conclude that the fact that both chose to use the similar system of clausulae tells us nothing certain about other stylistic features of their writing. Furthermore, while Sallustian rhythm does not imply Sallustian wording, the reverse is also true: Sallustian language does not imply Sallustian prose rhythms. Thus, Tacitus, although copying many Sallustian features, shows no preference for the historical system of clausulae. The same is true of the forged Pseudo-Sallustiana, in which the author (or authors) sought stylistic imitation but achieved only limited success in copying the rhythms of Sallusts prose.33 And yet, Arruntius seems to have been a special case. We have seen that he probably did succeed in reproducing both Sallustian style and the Sallustian (historical) clausular system. It remains to test the hypothesis of Arruntius, rather than Pompeius Trogus authorship, in two ways. First, it is necessary to Aili 138, Table A2. Aili 104-105. 33 According to S.M. Oberhelman, Latomus 45 (1986) 388, Invectiva in Ciceronem contains no intentional prose rhythms. Oberhelman judges the rhythms of Epistula 2 ad Caesarem Sallustian, but he cannot detect any particular system in Epistula 1. In fact, the frequency of dispondaic clausulae in all three compositions, according to Oberhelman, is close to the normal statistically expected value of about 21%.31 32

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prove that the fragment contains not only the rhythms borrowed from Sallust, but also some other Sallustian features. Second, it must be demonstrated that Pompeius Trogus did not use the historical clausular system. Neither point is capable of absolute proof, but the enquiry is not altogether hopeless. 6. The Style of the Fragmentum De Bellis Macedonicis The tiny scrap that remains suggests that the author of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis may have imitated the style of Sallust. In this connection two instances of unusual wording are significant. satis pollrent (recto, line 3): This pleonastic combination occurs in Catilina 6.3, res ... satis prospera satisque pollens and was picked up by at least one imitator, namely, Pseudo-Sallust, in Epist. ad Caes. 2.7.4, neque disciplina neque artes bonae neque ingenium ullum satis pollet. Otherwise, there is only one example, in Tacitus, at Hist. 3. 55, inferendo quoque bello satis pollebant.34 It is safe to conclude, therefore, that the expression satis pollere is peculiarly Sallustian. coi t tran s (verso, line 6): The fragment is hardly legible in this place, but the first editions spelling coi t seems preferable to coetu. The context implies that coitus means a group of people, an artificial and very rare usage that is attested for postclassical writers only: Pomponius Mela 2.9, coitu familiarium; Stat. Silv. 3.1.86, coitusque ministrum.35 The earliest example of the word is in Suet. Caligula 25, where coitus means sexual intercourse. In general, however, the word appears to be avoided by historians. No instances of coitus, coitio, or coetus occur in the extant texts of Sallust. If a scribe has accurately reproduced the original spelling, the author may have included this rare word to create an archaistic flavour. Just as Ennius uses occasus in the sense of occasio, so here, coitus may be an archaizing substitute for coitio.36 7. The rhythm of the Historiae Philippicae The speech of Mithridates, quoted in extenso in Justins Epitome Book 38 (fr. 152 Seel), is the only extant text of Pompeius Trogus, suitable for rhythmical analysis. Although the speech, about 1000 words in length, is too short to provide statistically valid data, it is long enough to give a relatively reliable sense of Trogus characteristic prose rhythms. The following table presents the calculations for two sets of syllabic structures which can be treated as clausulae This observation is founded on the databases of Packard Humanities Institute (PHI 5) and Bibliotheca Teubneriana Latina (BTL 3). 35 TLL 3:1566.40 coitus 1b coitio, congregatio hominum. 36 See Skutsch on Annales 123.34

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on syntactical grounds. These sets are intended as exhaustive.37 The smaller set consists of 41 six-syllable colon endings whose rhythm does not depend upon elision. The larger of the two sets includes 55 four-syllable clausular structures whose rhythm is similarly independent of elisions.38 Below each group of four clausula-types, I provide, in round brackets, the summary results for that group. For Trogus six-syllable patterns, the uncorrected expected value (e) is calculated.39 In the columns headed with the sign %, I give, as a percentage, the fraction of all the clausulae in the speech that each individual clausula represents. In the final columns, I provide, for comparison, the data reported by Aili for Sallust and Livy. Metrical patterns favored by each of these authors are marked with an exclamation point (!).Trogus: 6-syll. cases e 0 0.03 0 0.5 1 0.5 1 0.8 (2) 1 0.5 Trogus: 4-syll. cases % Sallust Livy: 1-7 % % 0.8 0.3 1.0 0.5 0.5 1.1 1.0 3.0 (!) (9.0) (3.3) (4.9) 2.1 1.1

No. 1 2 3 4 (1-4) 5

% 0 0 2.4 2.4 (4.8) 2.4

(5)

21-42 % 0.2 0.7 0.5 1.3 (2.7) 0.8

In this preliminary analysis I applied the most mechanical method for identifying clausulae in order to eliminate arbitrary interpretations as much as possible. I counted all cola followed by a strong punctuation sign (including the semicolon) in Seels edition. It must be stressed that a correct colometrical analysis should take into account the hierarchy of clausulae established for a given text: an authors favorite clausuale are expected to mark the more important syntactical boundaries. 38 Both sets comprise the clausulae in which the actual elisions do not affect the rhythmic structure. In the clausula Galli occupavissent at 38.4.7, for example, the last six syllables have the same metrical value, whether the last vowel of Galli is elided or not. 39 In the Speech of Mithridates the probability for a short syllable is 0.38 and that for a long syllable is 0.62. For 41 cases the expected frequency of, e.g., No. 24 will be: e = 41x (0.62 x 0,62 x 0.62 x 0.38 x 0.62 x 1) = 2.25. The value for No. 28 will certainly be the same, and also all the other patterns containing four long and one short syllable. This calculation was modified by Aili 32-36, who introduced two important corrections. He reckons on (1) the probability for a long vs. short syllable within the clausulae and (2) the probability of finding a long vs. short syllable in a given position within the clausulae. The result is that for Livy 21-44 Aili found the expected frequency to be 142 for No. 24, but 69 for No. 28 (the non-corrected value being 51 in both cases). These corrections make the calculation more exact, but there is no sense in applying them for only forty to fifty available cases.37

(5) (9.0) (55)

A detailed analysis of these data is not appropriate here, but they can be used to draw some preliminary conclusions. An attention to prose rhythm is to be expected from a historian of the Augustan age, and it is unsurprising that Pompeius Trogus is clearly concerned with clausular arrangement. The most frequent patterns (Nos. 12, 24, 27, 28) account for up to 40% of all his

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clausulae (the statistically expected value is 18%). The crucial point, however, is that the prose rhythms in the Speech of Mithridates have very little in common with the historical system, the principal representative of which is Sallust. In fact, Pompeius Trogus appears to be more un-Sallustian than Sallustian. His rhythmical preferences are more like those of the earlier books of Livy, but there is one important difference as far as the dispondaic structures are concerned.40 Livy favors them in books 1-7, though not so insistently as in the later Decades. On the contrary, Pompeius Trogus avoids them. In the Speech of Mithridates, such dispondaic structures as exist are dispersed throughout the text, not gathered together in systems within single periods.41 On the recto of the Fragmentum De bellis Macedonicis, by contrast, several such patterns are aggregated even within a short passage of text. It is highly improbable that in a text composed by Pompeius Trogus, as has been supposed, a system of no fewer than four molossus clauses, two of which involve dispondaic sequences should happen to survive. Of course the possibility that accumulations of that sort existed in lost parts of Pompeius Trogus work cannot be excluded. But if something similar appeared in a lost portion of the Historiae Philippicae, it must have been a very rare case. The author may have changed his rhythmical strategy as his work advanced, but we suspect that no substantial difference could separate the book 38 of the Historiae Philippicae from the book 31 to which P.Oxy 1.30 would belong. Thus, metrical and linguistic evidence severely undermine Pompeius Trogus claim to authorship of the Oxyrhynchus fragment and favor assigning it instead to Arruntius.

40 Yardley (above, note 21) 21-22 examines the Speech of Mithridates and finds there six Livian expressions. Of these expressions the following enter the stock of undoubted Trogus clausulae: 38.4.1 ... an pax habenda No. 23; 4.2 (omnes) ferrum stringere No. 16; 6.6 triumphi spectaculum (experiretur) No. 27; the other could well be clausulae, but I have not reckoned them in: 4.15 ... inmitium populorum No. 19; 5.1 incrementa virium No. 12; 6.6 bellum... inexpiabile No. 11. While Nos. 11, 12, 19, 27 are among the favorite patterns of Livy 1-7, it may imply that the general stylistic influence of Livy on Pompeius Trogus was followed by the rhythmical one. Yet, it is important that not all the passages adduced by Yardley came from Livy 1-7: pax habenda, inmitium populorum, incrementa virium have their parallels in the later Decades only. For the chronological problems concerning the relations between Pompeius Trogus and Livy see: Yardley (above, note 21) 20, n. 25. 41 Dispondaic structures in the Speech of Mithridates occur at 38.4.5 proeliis Romanos; 4.7 bello quaesitum; 5.4 patri suo obvenisset; 6.4 Aristonico bellum gessisse; and 7.1 eant sed possessum.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 155-184

Amphora Production in the Roman World A View from the Papyri

Scott Gallimore SUNY at Buffalo

Abstract Survey of the papyrological evidence for the various stages of the pottery production process in Graeco-Roman Egypt with a focus on wine amphorae. Where possible, evidence from excavations and ethnographical data are integrated into the discussion. Pottery is the most common artifact recovered through excavation and survey of Roman sites. To analyze the immense ceramic record, archaeologists employ functional categories, identify the variety of wares, specify the individual forms present for each ware, quantify the entire assemblage and its subsets, and often sample part of it for archaeometric testing.1 In short, whatever can be done to analyze pottery often is. The dominant role of pottery in the archaeological record contrasts with its modest presence in the textual sources. Ancient writers did not consider pottery a significant component of the economy. No treatise on pottery production survives from antiquity, and literary and epigraphical sources preserve few mentions of potters, several of which are moreover ambiguous. The inscriptions from Korykos in Cilicia provide an example. While analyzing Late Antique epitaphs from Korykos to record attested occupations, Hopkins noted that approximately ten percent of the 328 epitaphs which mention the occupation of the deceased refer to the pottery trade.2 This suggests something about the importance of the pottery industry in the Roman world. However, claiming1 MMD I would like to thank Peter van Minnen, Melinda Dewey-Gallimore, and two anonymous readers for reading drafts of this paper and providing numerous helpful suggestions. They have saved me from making several careless mistakes and any errors that remain are my own. 2 K. Hopkins, Economic Growth and Towns in Classical Antiquity, in Towns in Societies, ed. P. Abrams and E. Wrigley (Cambridge 1978) 71-72. . Patlagean, Pauvret conomique et pauvret sociale Byzance, 4e-7e sicles (Paris 1977) 158-169 and passim, also discusses these inscriptions.

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that ten percent of the workforce were involved in the pottery trade goes too far, and this reminds us of the difficulty with generalizing from these sources.3 The fact remains that there are usable documentary sources capable of providing significant information towards our understanding of pottery production in the Roman world, and that these texts have by and large been ignored. Two examples are Talmudic sources and papyrus texts.4 With respect to papyrus texts, well over one hundred published examples refer to pottery production in some manner, including amphora, brick, and fineware production. However, there have been few attempts to exploit these documents. A lingering reluctance to rely on papyrological evidence for broaching larger economic, social, and political issues in the Roman world, a reluctance fostered by Finley, is part of the difficulty.5 Finleys specific attitude toward papyri was entrenched within a more general conviction that data from Roman Egypt were of little comparative value to other regions.6 A gradual change in this attitude over the past decade owes much to the perseverance of papyrologists and scholars of Roman Egypt in attempting to relate their own datasets to broader issues of the Roman world.7 Within this context, this paper aims to explore the papyrus evidence for pottery production, specifically amphora production. Focusing on the various stages of production, including obtaining raw materials, forming, firing, coating with pitch, and transporting, this study will attempt to provide a more nuanced picture of these manufacturing stages and J.T. Pea, The Urban Economy during the Early Dominate (Oxford 1999) 52, n. 271, argues that this corpus of inscriptions reflects differential preservation. 4 D. Adan-Bayewitz, Common Pottery in Roman Galilee (Ramat-Gan 1993), and J.T. Pea, Roman Pottery in the Archaeological Record (Cambridge 2007), both use Talmudic sources for analyzing pottery production and use. 5 One can reconstruct Finleys views toward papyrology from comments in his publications. R.S. Bagnall, Evidence and Models for the Economy of Roman Egypt, in The Ancient Economy: Evidence and Models, ed. J.G. Manning and I. Morris (Stanford 2005) 187-188, cites several such references from M.I. Finleys Ancient History: Evidence and Models (London 1985), and similar examples occur in Finleys The Ancient Economy. For instance, at one point in the latter work Finley writes, I still prefer to judge the mentality of the later emperors from the practice of Constantinople, the second capital, rather than from what may have been done for a few years by the insignificant Egyptian village of Oxyrhynchus (The Ancient Economy, updated edition [Berkeley 1999 (1985)] 204). For a reaction to this, see P. van Minnen, Urban Craftsmen in Roman Egypt, MBAH 6.1 (1987) 31-88. 6 A good overview and discussion of this topic can be found in Bagnall (n. 5). 7 Bagnall (n. 5) 188 cites D.W. Rathbone, The Ancient Economy and Graeco-Roman Egypt, in Egitto e storia antica dallellenismo allet romana, ed. L.Criscuolo and G. Geraci (Bologna 1989) 159-176, as a good example of such a study.3

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to show that the data obtained and conclusions reached relate to the study of amphora production not only in Egypt, but also in other regions. The Study of Papyrus Texts Related to Pottery The effort of hundreds of pottery experts devoted to analyzing the ceramic record contrasts with the lack of attention paid to papyrological sources for pottery production. With respect to other crafts, Rathbone notes that only textile production has received detailed study.8 Several reasons account for this. Papyrus texts which relate to pottery production are dispersed throughout dozens of papyrological monographs, a fact which hinders attempts at study. How can one know if all relevant texts have been considered? Both Ruffing and Mees have compiled inventories of texts related to pottery production, but individually they represent only a portion of the pertinent documents.9 The relative lack of publications limited to papyrus texts related to pottery may also contribute to their overall low profile. Three such studies come to mind, although none has substantially impacted the study of ceramics.10 One publication, however, has made a notable impact. In 1981, Cockle published three mid-third century CE papyri from Oxyrhynchus with contracts for leasing pottery workshops, republished soon after as P.Oxy. 50.35953597.11 Focusing on the first of these three almost identical texts, Cockle selected a venue for publication which ensured widespread visibility among Roman scholars.12 Almost all subsequent studies which include papyrological8 D.W. Rathbone, Roman Egypt, in The Cambridge Economic History of the GrecoRoman World, ed. W. Scheidel et al. (Cambridge 2007) 707. 9 K. Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk (Rahden 2008) 582-591; 609; 632-633; 719-722; A.W. Mees, Organisationsformen rmischer TpferManufakturen am Beispiel von Arezzo und Rheinzabern (Mainz 2004) 362-408. Much shorter inventories can be found in A.C. Johnson, An Economic Survey of Ancient Rome, II: Roman Egypt to the Reign of Diocletian (Baltimore 1936) 361-364, and A.C. Johnson and L.C. West, Byzantine Egypt: Economic Studies (Princeton 1949) 115-116. 10 A.E. Hanson, Chaff and Pottery in the Oxyrhynchite Nome: P.Mich. inv. 157, in Le monde grec: Hommages Claire Praux, ed. J. Bingen et al. (Brussels 1975) 609-610; H.C. Youtie, P.Mich. inv. 347, verso: The Stubborn Potter, ZPE 24 (1977) 129-132; P. Tidemandsen, Contract for Delivery of Jars: P.Osl. inv. no. 1525, Symbolae Osloenses 71 (1996) 172-180. 11 H. Cockle, Pottery Manufacture in Roman Egypt: A New Papyrus, JRS 71 (1981) 87-97. 12 P.Oxy. 50.3596 and 3597 were subsequently discussed in detail by J. Hengstl, Einige juristische Bermerkungen zu drei Tpferei-Mieturkunden, in Studi in onore di Arnaldo Biscardi, ed. F. Pastori (Milan 1983) 4:663-673.

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evidence for pottery production refer to these three texts. Finley notes that these papyri provide a more intricate picture of pottery production than archaeology alone can offer.13 Peacock and Williams refer to these texts in their study of Roman amphorae, stressing their importance for providing insight into estate production.14 Aubert, despite an initial commitment not to bring in papyrological evidence from Roman Egypt, makes an exception for these documents in his study of Roman business managers.15 Peas recent effort at modeling the life-cycle of Roman pottery refers to these texts for their evidence concerning repaired vessels.16 There is only one study which employs a corpus of papyrus texts to study pottery production in Egypt. Grace and Empereur, in the first publication of amphora stamps which are irrefutably Egyptian, use several texts which mention potters from the Zenon Archive to explore aspects of Hellenistic amphora production in the Arsinoite nome.17 They analyze the organization of production and the phases of production and suggest that the texts show a larger-scale industry in place than archaeological evidence alone demonstrates. Scholars who study pottery production outside Egypt, particularly terra sigillata production in Italy and southern Gaul, have made most use of papyrological evidence. Strobel, while analyzing the organization of Gallic sigillata production, argues from P.Oxy. 50.3595-3597 that potters were not in control of pottery production sites and kilns.18 For the Arretine sigillata industry, Flle uses several lease contracts for pottery workshops to suggest independent workshops clustered around viable sources of clay.19 A recent study by Mees

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provides the most exhaustive examination of papyri20 related to pottery production and their potential for shedding light on sigillata production21 and aims at examining the internal organization of large-scale sigillata producers. Mees employs evidence from papyri, as well as legal sources and inscriptions, to contextualize production in Arezzo and Rheinzabern. The limited use by pottery specialists of papyri as comparanda for their own examples of production comes out well in Mees study. The potential of these documents for illuminating aspects of pottery production in their own right is overlooked and, instead, questions are asked of these texts for which there is insufficient evidence. Two such questions include the social status of potters and the presence of potters guilds. Mees dedicates 22 pages to addressing these two issues.22 In contrast, the firing of pottery receives a single sentence.23 Overall, Mees concentrates on legal and social matters related to the organization of production rather than on the actual stages of production. Mayerson shows similar concern when he concludes that based on analysis of pay rates in P.Oxy. 16.1911, 1913 and 50.3595-3597 potters had a low economic status.24 Ruffing has recently undertaken a study of many different types of craft production, including pottery production, in which he examines the organization of production and the trade in the goods produced.25 Caution is necessary when relying on papyri to provide data for studying the social status and organization of craftsmen because they tend to preserve leases between estate owners and itinerant craftsmen. They do not account for craftsmen who operated their own workshops.2620 Mees (n. 9) 362-408 includes translations (in German) of all of the papyri cited in his work. 21 Mees (n. 9). 22 Mees (n. 9) 212-233. The primary discussion of Egyptian papyri occurs on pp. 209-260. 23 Mees (n. 9) 238. 24 P. Mayerson, The Economic Status of Potters in P.Oxy. L 3595-3597 & XVI 1911, 1913, BASP 37 (2000) 100. 25 Ruffing (n. 9). Ruffing also catalogues numerous papyri which mention potters (including amphora potters, fineware potters, and brickmakers) in a section where he provides epigraphical and papyrological references for different Greek terms for craftsmen (pp. 582-591; 609; 632-633). 26 For this sentiment see E. Wipszycka, Lindustrie textile dans lgypte romaine (Warsaw 1965) 56-57, reinforced by van Minnen (n. 5) 56. T.C. Skeat (in P.Lond. 7, p. 185) argues that the majority of pottery production attested in the Zenon Archive was undertaken by itinerant craftsmen. However, this archive may not provide an accurate representation of pottery production throughout Egypt because the Arsinoite nome from which it derives was under development in the early Ptolemaic period.

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Papyrologists have taken different approaches to papyri related to pottery production. Most of their studies, however, refer to these texts for a purpose unrelated to how they may shed light on aspects of pottery production.27 Rowlandson in her sourcebook cites a lease contract for a pottery workshop, P.Cair.Masp. 1.67110 (565 CE), because it demonstrates female ownership of an estate.28 While analyzing the Heroninos Archive, Rathbone uses references to newly purchased and reused vessels to suggest that the Appianus estate bought rather than produced amphorae.29 Other scholars use these papyri to explore legal issues. Pringsheim in his study of the Greek law of sale makes an occasional reference to papyri which discuss pottery.30 Hengstl employs P.Oxy. 50.3596 and 3597 to suggest that potters were transformed into hired laborers in lease contracts which stipulate work responsibilities.31 In a more general context, he uses several papyri referring to pottery production in an overarching discussion of work contracts in Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt.32 Papyrologists have also examined these papyri for their potential to elucidate ancient terminology for vessel forms and measurements. Reil attempted to identify attested jar types and liquid measures in Greco-Roman Egypt.33 Rathbone argues that several vessels named in papyri point to the consumption of imported wine in Egypt and the reuse of foreign wine jars.34 Mayerson combines archaeological data and papyrological evidence to suggest two amphora forms which could represent the attested jar names Gazition and Askalonion.35 Kruit and Worp have recently produced several studies aimed at27 The recent republication by T. Wilfong, A Coptic Account of Pottery from the Kilns of Psabt (P.Lond.Copt. 1.695), BASP 45 (2008) 247-259 of P.Lond.Copt. 1.695 (6th-8th cen. CE), a text related to the firing of pottery, is an exception. 28 J. Rowlandson (ed.), Women and Society in Greek and Roman Egypt (Cambridge 1998) 262-263. This text is no. 197. 29 D.W. Rathbone, Economic Rationalism and Rural Society in Third-Century A.D. Egypt (Cambridge 1991) 167. This conforms to a general pattern of lack of long-term employment of craftsmen by Appianus. 30 F. Pringsheim, The Greek Law of Sale (Weimar 1950). BGU 4.1143, a sale contract for pottery with deferred delivery, is an example (p. 277, n.4). 31 Hengstl (n. 12) 666. He compares this condition to wet-nursing contracts. 32 J. Hengstl, Private Arbeitsverhltnisse freier Personen in den hellenistischen Papyri bis Diokletian (Bonn 1972). 33 T. Reil, Beitrge zur Kenntnis des Gewerbes im hellenistischen Agypten (Borna and Leipzig 1913). 34 D.W. Rathbone, Italian Wines in Roman Egypt, Opus 2 (1983) 81-98. 35 P. Mayerson, The Gaza Wine Jar (Gazition) and the Lost Ashkelon Jar (Askalnion), IEJ 42 (1992) 76-80. The two amphora types in question correspond to Killebrews Types A and B respectively.

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identifying different jar forms and measurements found in Hellenistic, Roman, and Byzantine papyri to provide a clearer picture of pottery types in Egypt.36 Papyrological Evidence for Amphora Production Few studies analyze papyri for evidence of the steps involved in manufacturing pottery. To make up for this deficit one must first address some difficulties. These texts form an assemblage of disiecta membra, with most being fragmentary and representing a wide chronological and geographical spectrum. As a result, the information requires critical sifting. Another difficulty is the kind of questions which interest pottery specialists, including division of labor, presence of guilds, and production of pottery classes other than amphorae. A lack of evidence makes discussing these issues difficult. Occasionally a text will mention a (koinon of potters), such as O.Bodl. 2.2143.4 (3rd/4th cen. CE), but such references are rare.37 There are a few attestations of fineware potters (), but little is mentioned concerning the production of these ceramics.38 Evidence for amphora potters (, or alternatively ) is more robust and relates to the attachment of amphora workshops to estates and the need for lease and sale contracts.39 Papyri can be beneficial for analyzing many aspects of pottery production. This includes the topography of pottery workshops. Excavation tends to identify kilns, but not workshops, which limits our understanding of these facilities. Pea and McCallum include descriptions of several pottery workshops in a recent overview of pottery production in Pompeii, and their excellent preservation offers a useful foundation for examining how such facilities would

appear in other contexts.40 In Egypt, the Dakhleh Oasis Project has identified a site, Amheida, labeled 33/390-L9-1, which has a pottery workshop with seven rooms and five kilns.41 Excavations at the monastery of St. Jeremia at Saqqara and at the site of Buto have produced similar evidence of workshops with several rooms and kilns.42 Potters houses at Elkab which contain workshop installations also give us insight into these spaces.43 When this material evidence is combined with papyrological references to features of (amphora workshops), a much more comprehensive understanding of these facilities emerges.44 P.Oxy. 50.3595-3597 describe workshops with store-rooms and equipment such as pottery wheels.45 P.Tebt. 2.342.16-19 (late 2nd cen. CE) stipulates a pottery workshop with fixtures (()), doors (), keys and swing-beam for watering ( [] []()), and a basin (). P.Mert. 2.76 (181 CE) specifies a workshop with four doors (l. 26) and requests that the tenant, who may be a potter, renovate and roof the facility, for which he will be reimbursed (ln. 31-34).46 The workshop in P.Cair. Masp. 1.67110.33-38 includes fixtures ([]), a kiln (), and a pitch furnace (). It has additional features which Rowlandson translates as long rooms, but which van Minnen reinterprets as long basins40 J.T. Pea and M. McCallum, The Production and Distribution of Pottery at Pompeii: A Review of the Evidence: Part 1, Production, AJA 113 (2009) 64-76. Their discussion focuses on the Via di Nocera workshop (I.20.2-3) and the Via Superiore workshop (150m outside the Porta di Ercolano). 41 C. Hope, Pottery Kilns from the Oasis of el-Dakhla, in An Introduction to Ancient Egyptian Pottery, ed. D. Arnold and J. Bourriau (Mainz 1993) 124-125; idem, Pottery Manufacture in the Dakhleh Oasis, in Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977-1987, ed. C.S. Churcher and A.S. Mills (Oxford 1999) 215-243. 42 H. Ghaly, Pottery Workshops of Saint-Jeremia (Saqqara), in Ateliers de potiers et productions cramiques en gypte, ed. P. Ballet = Cahiers de la Cramique gyptienne 3 (Cairo 1992) 161; P. Ballet, The Graeco-Roman Pottery Workshops of Buto. Egyptian Archaeology 24 (2004) 18. 43 S. Hendrickx, Habitations de potiers Elkab lpoque romaine, in Egyptian Religion: The Last Thousand Years, ed. W. Clarysse et al. (Leuven 1998) 2:1353-1376. 44 SB 24.16115.1 = P.Eirene 1.27 (mid-7th cen. CE) mentions a ov. This term also appears in CPR 14.2.2-3, SB 1.4675.6, SB 1.4712.9, and SPP 32.104.3. P.Flor. 1.50.68 provides a more general term for a pottery workshop ( ). Mees (n. 9) 247 and table 80 notes that several contracts include lists of supplies and equipment to be included along with the workshop. 45 P.Oxy. 50.3595.7-9; 50.3596.8-9; 50.3597.6-7. 46 Cockle (n. 11) 90 notes that P.Mert. 2.76 contains no words related to pottery and may not refer to a pottery workshop.

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which functioned either as tubs or kneading troughs.47 In P.Lond. 3.994.11-12 (517 CE), the workshop has four vaults ( ), a kiln (), a basin (), and all equipment and fixtures ( [l. -] [l. -]). Three other texts, BGU 19.2819.8 (442 CE?), P.Flor. 1.50.68 (269 CE), and SB 20.14300.10 (324 CE), also mention pottery workshops equipped with various features. These references suggest that one could expect a set of common features in an Egyptian amphora production workshop including basins, kilns, and other fixtures which likely equate to benches, tables, cisterns, and areas for drying and storage. This compares well to the description of the Via di Nocera workshop. This facility had five rooms and included an area for wedging clay, a pit for mixing clay, a levigation basin, a cistern, two kilns, and a circle with a diameter of four meters which may have been where the pottery was thrown.48 An additional consideration is the type of products packaged in Egyptian amphorae as this may have influenced certain production steps. The obvious answer is wine as this was produced on a large scale in Egypt and is often connected to amphora production in papyrus texts. Amphorae designated to carry wine would have required an interior coating of pitch. Other liquid commodities produced in Egypt may have also been packaged in amphorae. Johnson discusses a variety of these products including different types of oil.49 Egyptian amphorae may have also been used to package foodstuffs other than liquids. In particular, literary sources point to salted fish as an important Egyptian export during the Roman period.50 It was common practice to transport salted fish and fish sauces in amphorae, and examples of Nilotic fish possibly identified at Sagalassos, Turkey, and Vallerano, a few kilometers south of Rome, may be evidence of this trade.51 The discussion below is limited to the stages of amphora manufacture. According to Pea: The manufacturing process for Roman pottery generally involved at least six discrete stages: raw material procurement, paste preparation,

forming, drying, firing, and postfiring handling and storage.52 The evidence in the papyri for each of these stages varies, and these texts also include information for two additional stages applicable to amphora manufacture, coating the interiors with pitch and transport of new, unused vessels. (1) Obtaining Clay Resources Clay is the sine qua non of pottery production and obtaining sufficient amounts would have been a chief priority for potters. A general condition, as suggested by Rye, is that potters followed the principle of least effort and would exploit sources of clay most accessible to production sites.53 The archaeological record, however, provides little evidence of the activity of obtaining clay. Peacock summarizes, Although a large number of Roman production sites is known, very few have produced evidence for the extraction of clay or of the coarse materials required for tempering heat-resistant cooking wares.54 The few exceptions represent only a sample of the extent of this activity. In Rome, excavations in 1888 and 1965 on the east slope of the Janiculum hill revealed cuttings into clay beds partially filled with sand and pottery production debris which appear to be clay pits.55 Excavations in the Roman Agora at Thessaloniki have produced similar evidence from Hellenistic and Late Roman contexts.56 For Roman Britain, Young has compiled an inventory of sites at which clay extraction occurred.57 Peacock notes that almost no evidence for tool use to extract clay survives except for a possible digging tool found in Lavoye, France, consisting of an iron shoe which would have been attached to a wooden handle.58 There is a possible reference to this type of tool in SB 12.11146 (1st/2nd cen. CE), which mentions a , an implement White interprets as some type of spade or mattock, in the context of pottery production.59

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In Egypt, archaeologists distinguish between Nile silt clays and marl clays.60 Nile silt clays appear throughout the Nile river valley, while marl clays occur at locations along the river between Esna and Cairo and in secondary deposits such as at Wadi Qena.61 A third type known as kaolin clay, first exploited in the Early Roman period, was available in the territory of Aswan.62 Several papyri mention the above clays, including P.Oxy. 50.3595-3597, which each list at least two different types. P.Oxy. 50.3595.13-14 is representative: [] (friable, sandy, and black earths). Cockle in her commentary suggests that is Nile silt clay, is desert marl, and is sand or quartz temper.63 A similar list of materials appears in P.Tebt. 2.342.27: (friable and sandy earth). Within the context of brick-making, a reference in P.Ant. 46.9 (ca. 337-348 CE) to (white mud) could be an additional allusion to marl clay. Cockles suggestion that refers to some type of inorganic temper is supported by descriptions of Egyptian amphorae of Roman date which often characterize the fabrics as containing large amounts of small quartz grains. Another option was chaff or some other type of organic material as noted by Peacock and Williams based on petrographic analysis of Egyptian amphorae.64 Several papyri elucidate different strategies for obtaining the above clays. For example, P.Oxy. 50.3595-3597 include a clause indicating the estate owners would supply clay. How should we interpret this situation? Did estate owners organize shipments of clay to pottery workshops or compensate potters for clay they acquired? There is evidence for the latter interpretation in P.Mert 1.44 (5th cen. CE), in which brickmakers need funds to purchase clay to produce two of bricks. A equals approximately 3000 bricks, suggesting that a substantial quantity of clay would be required.65 A similar situation could be expected for amphora producers on estates. Evidence supporting the60 This dichotomy first developed during study of pottery of Pharaonic date (e.g. A. Lucas, Ancient Egyptian Materials and Industries, 4th edition, revised by J.R. Harris [London 1962] 368). 61 J.D. Bourriau et al., Pottery, in Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, ed. P.T. Nicholson and I. Shaw (Cambridge 2000) 121-122. 62 Bourriau et al. (n. 61) 122. 63 Cockle (n. 11) 92-93. Cockle suggests these two clay types were often mixed for amphora production. 64 Peacock and Williams (n. 14) 205. 65 The editio princeps of this papyrus (p. 145) translates as a jug, but interprets the term in view of P.Oxy. 18.2197 (6th cen. CE) as a metrological unit.

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interpretation that estate owners supplied clay in raw material form appears in the Zenon Archive. Grace and Empereur, based on several references from the Zenon Archive, suggest that potters assistants may have been in the employ of some estates to handle jobs such as collecting clay.66 An ostracon from La Graufesenque, France preserving a graffito, first published by Marichal and discussed by Aubert, provides comparable evidence. This graffito lists slaves belonging to the estate of a certain Aetelia who each possess a different job connected to a pottery workshop.67 As this text pertains to several sections of this paper, it can be cited here in its entirety: [?]a ATELIAE puerorum ex XI (Kalendas) August[is | ] in X K(alendas) Septe(m)bres | [SE]CUNDUS, AGILEIUS dies XIIII s(emis) ar[gilam | [?] dierum XXX, IIII ad |5 Capuries, XI [ | CA]LISTUS | [O]NESIMUS ad Sabros III, ad Crau[cinam | ] ad Craucinam III it(em) ONESIMUS[ | mat]eriem erigenda I |10 [?] dierum XXX | [?]ae III CALISTUS ad samiandum [ | ]...EOS, UIGEDOS III mercatu a[d | ]s materi(em) erige(n)dam [ | ] argilam III di[es |15] [ | ]s ad a[?] [Account of the days] of the slaves of Atelia from July 22 until August 23. Secundus, Agileius: 14.5 days collecting clay, during the period of 30 days, 4 days at the workshop of Capuries, 11 [days] Calistus, Onesimus: Onesimus for 3 days at the workshop of Sabri, [ days] at the workshop of Craucina the same Onesimus: 3 days at the workshop of Craucina, 1 day gathering material during the period of 30 days Calistus: 3 days at the place for polishing Uigedos: 3 days at the market, [ days] collecting material, 3 days collecting clay 68 According to Aubert the graffito has some slaves performing tasks (argilam collecting clay; materiem erige(n)da(m) gathering construction material or firewood; mercatu(m) transporting products to market) while others were assigned to workplaces (ad samiandum to the place for polishing?; ad Ca66 Grace and Empereur (n. 17) 421. These references include P.Cair.Zen. 3.59500.2-4 and P.Lond. 7.2038.25-28. 67 R. Marichal, Quelques graffites indites de La Graufesenque (Aveyron), CRAI (1971) 193-201; Nouveaux graffites de La Graufesenque, IV, REA 76 (1974) 266-277; and Les graffites de La Graufesenque (Paris 1988) 226-228. Aubert (n. 15) 210-211. This graffito is preserved on the recto (interior) of the sherd, but apparently has never received an AE number. 68 Translation modified from Marichal (n. 67, REA) 276; (n. 67, Les graffites) 228.

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puries, ad Sabros, ad Craucinam to the workplaces of Capuries, Sabri, and Craucina).69 The slave who collected clay is relevant to this discussion. Many potters, even those attached to estate workshops, would have obtained their own clay, although they may have had assistants for this task. P.Tebt. 2.342.26-29 specifies a source of clay available for the potters to exploit south of the pottery workshop in a vacant lot.70 Peacock records several ethnographic parallels, particularly in the context of household production where obtaining clay from public land on the outskirts of villages is common.71 Aubert notes that brickworks were often situated near extraurban clay sources to accommodate their immense requirements for clay.72 Sources of clay on private estates also may have been available for mining. A law in the Digesta, 7.1.13.5, codified by the mid-second century CE jurist Ulpian, begins with the phrase inde est quaesitum, an lapidicinas vel cretifodinas vel harenifodinas ipse instituere possit (From this it is sought whether he is able to establish a quarry, clay pit, or sand pit). This refers to a usufruct farmer who wanted to convert part of his land over to one, or perhaps all, of the above enterprises suggesting it was common enough to warrant treatment by the jurists.73 Collection of clay by independent workers is another option. Ethnographic study of the potters village of Deir el-Gharbi in Upper Egypt has shown an intricate relationship between clay miners and potters.74 The clay miners provide raw materials to potters, but are autonomous workmen and speak a slightly variant dialect.75 According to Nicholson and Patterson, The miners themselves told us that they had long (for thousands of years) been a profession separate from that of the potters.76 These miners use few tools and would be difficult to identify in the archaeological record. There are also no literary attestations for this profession in antiquity, but it may represent an ancient method for obtaining clay.

Aubert (n. 15) 210. This contract is discussed by Mees (n. 9) passim in detail and also by Flle (n. 19) 121 who notes the difference in clay provision between this text and P.Oxy. 50.35953597. 71 Peacock (n. 54) 17, 19, 21. 72 Aubert (n. 15) 217. 73 See Aubert (n. 15) 166 for a discussion of this law. 74 For a discussion of this project, known as the Ballas Pottery Project, see P. Nicholson and H. Patterson, Pottery Making in Upper Egypt: An Ethnoarchaeological Study, World Archaeology 17 (1985) 222-239; Ceramic Technology in Upper Egypt: A Study of Pottery Firing, World Archaeology 21 (1989) 71-86. 75 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1985) 222-225. 76 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1985) 224.69 70

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The purchase of prepared clay is a final option to consider. Talmudic sources contain several references to the purchase of potters eggs, which were prepared balls of clay ready for throwing.77 However, the amount of clay required for producing an amphora could suggest this method of procurement was viable only for smaller types of ceramics. In sum, Egyptian potters would have employed several different methods for obtaining clay, whether it was desert marl or Nile silt clay. Estate owners could have supplied money for purchasing necessary stocks, or supplied the clay itself. Another option is that potters may have obtained their own from available sources. There is also some evidence to suggest that assistants or slaves may have been involved in collecting clay for workshops. (2) Forming Several papyrus texts contain references related to the actual steps involved in forming amphorae. This includes a reference to paste preparation in P.Mich. 5.241 (16 CE), an abstract for a contract which informs a would-be apprentice that kneading clay is one of the tasks he will perform.78 The need for water for working with clay is apparent in the Oxyrhynchus lease contracts which stipulate that sufficient water be available at the workshops.79 In P.Tebt.2.342.19 the provision of a well and an apparatus for obtaining water shows similar concern. Drying is attested by mentions of drying floors ().80 The potter in BGU 4.1143.15 (19/18 BCE) is told to furnish the vessels with handles. In P.Tebt. 2.342.17 one finds a possible reference to two potters tools ([]() ), although the term is somewhat cryptic.81 If these implements are tools, they could be for forming. P.Lond. 3.994.12 provides another possible attestation of a forming tool when it mentions a (wooden contraption). There are further aspects of amphora forming on which papyri can shed some light. These include the rate of production per day. These rates must have been high based on the number of vessels recorded in contracts. The potter named in P.Oxy. 50.3595, for example, would have required a high daily production rate to produce the specified annual quota of 15,300 vessels, particularly if one factors in kiln wasters and breakage. Smaller consignments Adan-Bayewitz (n. 4) 24-25. Two references are Tosefta Bava Mezia 6.3 and Bavli Bava Mezia 74a. 78 Mees (n. 9) 212 discusses this in the context of an apprenticeship contract. 79 P.Oxy. 50.3595.15, 50.3596.15, 50.3597.24-25. 80 P.Oxy. 50.3595.33, 50.3596.31, 50.3597.31, and P.Tebt. 2.342.22. 81 The editor of this text notes the overall awkward construction of this line and suggests that a word may have dropped out between []() and .77

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of vessels demanded in P.Oxy. 50.3596 (4,115) and 3597 (8,130) could suggest lower production rates, or similar rates to 3595 but with fewer workers. Only one papyrus text, P.Lond. 7.2038 (mid-3rd cen. BCE), from the Zenon Archive, offers a specific account of daily production, a fact noted by Grace and Empereur.82 This letter preserves the complaints of two potters that their promised workspace was unavailable for four days and the associated loss in production amounted to approximately 30 vessels. This suggests a per diem production rate of roughly eight amphorae, but lack of comparanda makes it difficult to assess the relevance of this figure. Two other letters in the Zenon Archive offer general pictures of production rates. The first, P.Cair.Zen. 3.59500 (mid-3rd cen. BCE), informs Zenon that a potter will accept employment, but must begin soon to ensure completion of the specified vessels. The second, P.Cair.Zen. 2.59264 (251 BCE), is an update from a certain Sisouchos whom Zenon instructed to inquire into hiring potters. Sisouchos here advises Zenon to contact the potter himself if he wants the vessels to be manufactured in time. Whether production was constant or fluctuated due to the loss of manpower to other tasks, such as the harvest, is another consideration. Evidence from the Via di Nocera pottery workshop (I.20.2-3) at Pompeii suggests the circumstances of reassigned labor.83 Both of the workshops kilns were functioning as storage areas at the time of the Vesuvian eruption. Kiln 1 contained several lamp moulds while the firing chamber of kiln 2 contained 61 unused lamps, in a pyramidal formation, and the combustion chamber contained 123 dice cups known as fritilli. Pea and McCallum interpret this storage as representing a temporary closing of the workshop to accommodate the harvest which may have occupied many of the workers.84 Several papyri which request that amphorae be from winter manufacture may parallel the above situation.85 The phrase from the winter manufacture ( ) does not mean that amphora production only occurred during winter months, but suggests rather that production began following the harvest in anticipation of the next years vintage. To produce the number of vessels required by contracts would be a substantial undertaking and would require several months of manufacture. It is possible, however, that potters could have been reassigned to different tasks when needed since, Grace and Empereur (n. 17) 423-424. Pea and McCallum (n. 40) 68. 84 Pea and McCallum (n. 40) 72. This idea relies on a recent reinterpretation of the timing of the eruption of Vesuvius by G. Stefani, La vera data delleruzione, Archeo 22 (2006) 10-13, who prefers a date in October of 79 CE as opposed to August. 85 P.Oxy. 50.3595.33-34, 50.3596.31-32, 50.3597.31-32, 58.3942.24-25, and P.Tebt. 2.342.23.82 83

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as Hengstl suggests, their contracts made them hired laborers of an estate.86 An expenditure account for an e state in the Oxyrhynchite nome, P.Oxy. 16.1913.16-23, offers some supporting evidence. Among laborers who worked on an estate irrigation unit, this document specifies a potter.87 Two interpretations are possible: (1) the potter received payment for providing ceramic parts for these units; (2) the potter received payment for aiding in the maintenance of these units. A later section in this account (lines 33-35) records a payment to the same potter for supplying 764 new wine amphorae; this could suggest his work on the irrigation units was not related to ceramics. Potters under contract to an estate, thus, may have been engaged both in manufacturing amphorae and in other activities when needed. Papyrological evidence can give us insight into different aspects of the processes involved in forming amphorae including paste production, drying, handle attachment, and tool use. There is also evidence for daily rates of production, which must have been high, and for when production took place. The period of production would likely have followed the harvest when many of the workers attached to pottery workshops were no longer involved in other jobs around the estate. (3) Firing When potters had formed enough jars they would begin firing.88 Individual firings of large quantities of vessels would have occupied several days and included loading the kiln, heating the pottery in stages at set temperatures for predetermined lengths of time, allowing the pottery to cool for several days, and unloading. Several papyrus texts attest ancient concern for firing with respect to amphora production. We should first examine the vocabulary associated with the firing of pottery in papyrus texts. Two verbs, and , appear interchangeable in this regard. Verb and noun forms of both appear in each of the Oxyrhynchus lease contracts and is the verb for firing in BGU 4.1143.16.89 One difficulty, however, is P.Oxy. 50.3595.9-10 where the potter must the vessels in question. Why the redundancy?86 87

20).

See at n. 31. Also mentioned are guards to watch the irrigation units (16-18) and a smith (19-

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Cockle interprets to be more significant than because it occurs more often in references to firing pottery.90 She concludes that, in this instance, refers to a secondary practice of smoking the jars to give them a dark grey or black exterior, a process which is described by Lucas.91 Cockle also cites P.Oxy. 50.3596.15-16 and 50.3597.20-21 as corroborating this process when they mention (smoking of the jars). Overall, however, it appears that either verb and its cognates can refer to the firing of pottery in papyrus texts. Several papyri show concern for obtaining fuel for firing. In a letter from the Zenon Archive mentioned above, P.Lond. 7.2038, two potters inform Zenon they will soon begin firing, but need additional money. They may have needed funds for purchasing fuel for their kiln(s). This is the situation in P.Theon. 12 (156/157 CE), in which there is a request for payment for chaff () for firing pottery.92 In P.Oxy. 41.2996.10-12 (2nd cen. CE) chaff appears in a list of supplies purchased by a potter, and P.Lond. 3.1166.18 (42 CE) appears to preserve a similar request for chaff for brickworks suggesting need either for fuel or temper. The potters in P.Oxy. 50.3595.14-15, 3596.15-16, and 3597.20-22 had clauses in their contracts that fuel be provided at their respective workshops, although the type of fuel is unspecified. All of these references suggest that estate owners often provided fuel, or money for procuring fuel. They also suggest that obtaining fuel was a primary concern for firing. An interesting papyrus related to firing is P.Lond.Copt. 1.695 (6th to 8th cen. CE), republished by Wilfong.93 This document records the number of jars fired in thirteen kilns ranging from 760 to 840 per kiln for a total of 10,440 (incorrectly stated as 10,450 on the papyrus).94 An abbreviated text on the verso which includes the number 65 may indicate five firings per kiln.95 Wilfong uses this document to reconstruct kiln capacities for Byzantine Egypt, noting that contemporary kilns had average diameters of 1.5m which suggests typi-

cal kiln capacities ranged between 160 and 214 amphorae.96 This estimate is informative, but earlier and contemporaneous amphora kilns in Egypt and the Roman world often had diameters exceeding 1.5m. Near Alexandria at Burg el-Arab, rescue excavations uncovered a possible Late Roman kiln with an internal diameter of 7.4m.97 Another kiln discovered at the 203km marker along the highway between Alexandria and Cairo had a diameter of 9.6m.98 Both could have held several hundred amphorae per firing. Peacock and Williams identify little standardization for amphora kilns, but suggest a variable diameter between 3.5 and 5.5 m.99 The kilns specified in P.Lond.Copt. 1.695 may be smaller than average. Few papyri mention the actual procedures of firing. Instead, references tend to relate to vessel quality following firing. The Oxyrhynchus lease contracts each incorporate the phrase (well fired),100 and in the delivery contract BGU 4.1143.16-17, the potter must ensure that the vessels are [] (fired in proper heat). As Mees shows, this concern with the firing of amphorae appears related to standards applied to individual vessels which determined their usability.10196 Wilfong cites kilns from four excavations as possible comparanda for this papyrus. These include 1st to 3rd century CE kilns at site 33/390-L9-1 in the el-Dakhleh Oasis (see n. 41), late Roman kilns at Tomb 54 in the Theban Valley of the Queens (G. Lecuyot and G. Pierrat, propos des lieux de production de quelques cramiques trouves Td et dans la Valle des reines, in Ateliers de potiers et productions cramiques en gypte, ed. P. Ballet = Cahiers de la Cramique gyptienne 3 [Cairo 1992] 173-180), and late Roman kilns at the Monastery of Saint Jeremias at Saqqara (Ghaly [n. 42]). He suggests the closest comparison is with eight kilns of 6th to 8th century CE date built among the ruins of the Seti I temple (K. Mysiwiec, Keramik und Kleinfunde aus der Grabung im Tempel Sethos I. in Gurna [Mainz 1987] 15-19). Another example could be the site of Buto where small kilns have been noted Ballet [n. 42] 19. His estimates at capacity are based on hypothetical jar measurements of 30cm diameter and 70cm height. 97 F. el-Ashmawi, Pottery Kiln and Wine Factory at Burg el-Arab, in Commerce et artisanat dans lAlexandrie hellnistique et romaine, ed. J.-Y. Empereur (Athens 1998) 58-60. 98 J.-Y. Empereur and M. Picon, La reconnaissance des productions des ateliers cramiques: lexemple de la Marotide, in Ateliers de potiers et productions cramiques en gypte, ed. P. Ballet = Cahiers de la Cramique gyptienne 3 (Cairo 1992) 145-146. 99 Peacock and Williams (n. 14) 47. Several kilns in Egypt have diameters falling within this same general range including a kiln uncovered at El Amreya with a diameter of approximately 5.0m (A. Abd el-Fattah, Recent Discoveries in Alexandria and the Chora, in Commerce et artisanat dans lAlexandrie hellnistique et romaine, ed. J.-Y. Empereur [Athens 1998] 43-44). 100 P.Oxy. 50.3595.34, 50.3596.32, and 50.3597.32 101 Mees (n. 9) 238.

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Numerous papyri preserve some variation of a clause which requires that the finished vessels be of acceptable quality. The chronological and geographical range of these texts argues against this representing mere boilerplate. In P.Tebt. 2.342.25, for instance, the potter must provide 2000 (acceptable empty jars). A variant of this word, , occurs in at least four papyri: CPR 10.39.10 (443 CE); CPR 14.2.16 (late 6th/early 7th cen. CE); P.Cair.Masp. 1.67110.41; SB 1.4675.1 (6th/7th cen. CE). This term represents a conscious reflection concerning the quality of the vessels after firing. In P.Cair. Zen. 3.59500.7, the potter informs Zenon of his desire to commence work as soon as possible for his undertaking to prove useful (). The potter may have vessel quality in mind with this statement. Further evidence appears in P.Oxy. 14.1631.16 (280 CE), which includes the clause, [] [] (we will undertake the ringing of the jars to be used for wine), which indicates testing amphorae to ensure proper firing.102 Inferior clay quality in several regions of Egypt may have contributed to these legal considerations. Two examples, according to Ballet et al., include Nile valley and Mareotic clays.103 Clauses in contracts which ask for vessels of acceptable quality could imply ancient awareness of this situation. Documents from the Oxyrhynchite nome provide explicit references to expectations of vessel quality. The lease contracts P.Oxy. 50.3595-3597 and P.Oxy. 58.3942 (606 CE) instruct the potters to exclude defective or repaired vessels.104 The amphorae also must not leak. This suggests amphora potters would attempt to repair vessels or hand over jars with some defect. Archaeological evidence for the maintenance of amphorae is rare compared with other pottery classes. Pea provides the most thorough discussion of maintenance of pottery including examples of repairs resulting from firing defects and from use-related damage. For amphorae, he relates a single example, a mending of a LRA type 1a amphora from the Yassi Ada B shipwreck which dates to the seventh century CE105 One handle of this amphora broke off,102 Cockle (n. 11) 89. The same clause appears in P.Oxy. 47.3354.16-17 (257 CE). PSI 8.953.3 (6th cen. CE) mentions a () (ringer [of wine jars]). A good description of this process can be found in Geoponica 6.3.2. 103 P. Ballet et al., Artisanat de la cramique dans lgypte romaine tardive et byzantine. Prospections dateliers de potiers de Minia Assouan, Cahiers de la Cramique gyptienne 2 (1991) 131. 104 P.Oxy. 50.3595.36, 3596.33-34, 3597.33-34. The clause is as follows: (without those that have been repaired or are defective). The clause in P.Oxy. 58.3942.25 is slightly different, (both faultless and undamaged in their manufacture), but has the same sense. 105 Pea (n. 3) 75-76, 232. For the original discussion of this amphora, see P.G. van Alfen, New Light on the 7th-c. Yassi Ada Shipwreck: Capacities and Standard Sizes of

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creating an opening in the shoulder and causing the loss of part of the rim. The entire damaged section has evidence of smoothing and, as van Alfen suggests, the opening in the shoulder was likely patched.106 This damage occurred postmanufacture, probably during earlier transport of the amphora. This situation contrasts with evidence for repairs to dolia or pithoi to which Pea dedicates much of his chapter on maintenance.107 These large vessels required much more material and effort than other ceramics during production. In Diocletians Edict on Maximum Prices, dating to 301 CE, the entry for a doleum holding 1000 Italian sextarii lists the maximum cost at 1000 denarii communes.108 This price is high and suggests that any vessels deemed repairable would have been salvaged during production. The Ballas Pottery Project supplies relevant ethnographic evidence for firing because the vessels made by these potters are similar to ancient amphorae.109 Thus, kilns at Deir el-Gharbi had average capacities between 500 and 700 vessels, and whenever the potters reached this number of prepared vessels they purchased fuel and would begin firing. Unfortunately, the authors fail to specify kiln dimensions, making comparison with ancient kilns difficult. Potters would first stack vessels carefully in the kilns in an inverted position, packing them as densely as possible. Firing took three to four hours with the temperature reaching roughly 1000oC with no soak periods (phases during firing when potters maintain specific temperatures for extended periods of time before achieving the maximum temperature). Unloading took place after two days of cooling and potters expected approximately 5% to 10% of the vessels to be wasters. After one catalogued firing of 627 medium-sized Ballas jars stacked in five equal layers, the authors note that 31 jars were deemed wasters (4.78%).110 Of these, 21 were from the lowest layer, five from the second layer, two each from the next two layers, and none from the top layer.111 Blitzers study of storage jar production in the Koroni district of Messenia provides more ethnographic support for the careful loading of kilns.112 AccordLRA1 Amphoras, JRA 9 (1996) 202. 106 van Alfen (n. 105) 202. 107 Pea (n. 3) 210-227. 108 The entry for doleum occurs in section 15.97 (based on the layout proposed in M. Giacchero, Edictum Diocletiani et Collegarum de Pretiis Rerum Venalium [Genoa 1974]). This is under the heading De fictilibus which incorporates section 15.88-101. 109 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1985) 230-231. 110 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1989) 80. 111 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1989) 82, fig.8. 112 H. Blitzer, : Storage-Jar Production and Trade in the Traditional Aegean, Hesperia 59 (1990) 675-711.

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ing to Blitzer, As elsewhere, potters devoted a great deal of time to loading of the kiln, since carelessness could result in a fall and the loss of income.113 Potters were also cautious during unloading and would avoid this step on windy days because air introduced into the kiln could cause changes in temperature resulting in cracks and unusable vessels. Wasters were approximately 3% to 10% of fired vessels while in below average firings they exceeded 40%. The potters believed these averages were slightly higher than those at the beginning of the twentieth century.114 Blitzer advises caution for using Koroni as comparative evidence for ancient pottery production, because her study occurred at the end of the industry when the potters no longer took as much care during stages like firing.115 Nicholson and Patterson also studied the Deir el-Gharbi industry during its demise, which advocates caution when attempting to compare breakage and loss rates there with what may have occurred in antiquity.116 Nevertheless, as the above papyrological evidence for well-fired vessels suggests, ancient amphora producers would still have encountered kiln wasters and unusable vessels. When one considers ancient kiln sizes and vessel capacities along with assumed procedures for stacking vessels which would result in disproportionate heating of amphorae on lower levels, a hypothetical waster average of 5% to 10% should not be unreasonable. Between papyrological evidence for quality specifications and the ethnographic evidence for a high percentage of wasters, we should expect a higher than average discard rate for ancient amphorae. Sherd dumps may, indeed, be evidence for precisely this. Ballet observes that km al-ahmar (with French variants butte rouge and colline rouge), translating to red hill, is a common toponym in Egypt.117 This refers to large mounds formed by tens of thousands of discarded sherds, particularly Roman amphorae, with other vessel classes sometimes represented on smaller scales.118 An exception is the area of Buto Blitzer (n. 112) 696. There is very little discussion of loss rates during firing for ancient pottery. Much of the discussion relies thus on ethnographic evidence. Peacock, for instance, mentions that wastage rates at British brickyards were around 4% (n. 54) 47-50, and household production in Berber society often resulted in losses of 10% (n. 54)13-14. 115 Blitzer (n. 112) 686 and personal communication. 116 Nicholson and Patterson (n. 74, 1985) 224. 117 P. Ballet, Dpotoirs cultuels, domestiques et industriels dans la chra gyptienne lpoque romaine, in La ville et ses dchets dans le monde romain: rebuts et recyclages, ed. P. Ballet et al. (Montagnac 2003) 225. 118 P. Ballet, Potiers et consommateurs dans lgypte ancienne: sites et tessons, Bulletin de la Socit franaise dgyptologie 147 (2000) 40-49.113 114

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where large amounts of tableware wasters have been documented.119 These mounds have been a focus of numerous survey projects in Egypt interested in identifying centers of pottery production.120 A similar situation occurs in other amphora producing regions of the Roman world. Peacock, for instance, undertook a survey in Tunisia which aimed at identifying amphora production sites (along with other pottery production sites) by first examining maps for toponyms associated with pottery and pottery production and by asking locals about locations of large pottery dumps.121 On Crete, several French archaeologists surveyed the entire island looking for amphora production sites by specifically seeking out known, and unknown, heaps of discarded pottery.122 As for the formation processes behind these discard mounds, amphora production was a large-scale industry and produced large vessels. A priori this implies that dumps of amphora sherds would be larger and more conspicuous than other pottery classes. However, contracts for amphora production which specify vessels of acceptable quality also may have contributed to the formation of large amphora middens in the landscape by forcing amphora potters to discard all vessels which did not meet the established standards. Concerning fineware pottery, there is some evidence for a class of vessels often termed seconds. These seconds represent vessels which had some type

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of production defect, but were still sent to market.123 It appears that amphorae did not share this same classification, although most studies of amphorae do not consider the notion of seconds, thus making it difficult to judge whether there is an archaeological correlate. With the exception of texts which mention fuel for firing and one document which records the number of vessels fired, the majority of papyrological references to the firing of pottery relate to vessel quality. Vessels had to be well fired and meet acceptable standards. Combined with evidence for wasters from ethnographic studies and with large amphora middens which appear in the Egyptian landscape, it is possible to suggest that amphora production in Egypt had a high discard rate related to the conditions of firing. (4) Coating with Pitch Coating amphorae with pitch is a common subject in papyri. Wine amphorae required interior surfacing with pitch to prevent absorption of liquid into the clay fabric, an occurrence which not only reduced the amount of wine but also degraded its taste. Archaeological evidence for pitch derives from residues on the interior of jars recovered from excavation. For instance, van Alfen records 13 amphorae preserving traces of pitch or resin on their interiors from the Yassi Ada B shipwreck.124 Because of such evidence scholars appreciate that most, if not all, wine amphorae received interior coatings of pitch, but it is difficult to quantify the scale of pitching in antiquity. Many of the texts which preserve contracts for production of amphorae include clauses which require that finished vessels be coated with pitch. These numerous references led Grace and Empereur to suggest that potters themselves were responsible for much of the pitching.125 The Oxyrhynchus lease contracts each specify that finished vessels be

123 M. Bulmer, The Samian, in Excavations at Chester: 11-15 Castle Street and Neighbouring Sites, 1974-8. A Possible Posting House (mansio), ed. D. Mason (Chester 1980) 87, suggests this may be the case for at least 26 or 27 Gallic sigillata vessels which present a variety of production defects recovered from the site of Chester in northwest England. J. Ktter, Graffiti auf rmischer Gefkeramik aus Neuss (Aachen 2008) 80-99, makes a similar suggestion for sigillata vessels produced at Neuss which bear a graffito in the form of an X. 124 van Alfen (n. 105) 203. From this evidence he extrapolates that the primary function of the entire complement of amphorae serving as cargo at the time of sinking was packaging for wine. 125 Grace and Empereur (n. 17) 423.

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(coated with pitch from the base to the rim).126 P.Oxy. 50.3597.23 shows added concern with the clause (with you supervising the coating with pitch). A passage in Columella (12.18.2) shows that the supervisor could be a superintendent of some kind.127 Inconsistent or improper coating of vessels must have been a common problem in antiquity. A letter from the Zenon Archive, P.Cair.Zen. 3.59481 (mid-3rd cen. CE), has a potter complaining to Zenon that other potters were doublecoating vessels with pitch, resulting in wastage of time and material. These potters appear to have been unsupervised, a situation which may have eventually led to the above-mentioned requirement. A contrasting situation occurs in BGU 4.1143.15-16 where the potter must render the vessels |[] (perhaps coated and recoated) according to the contract. This clause provides no clear interpretation because the specific terminology is unique, but likely implies the potter must double-coat vessels with pitch and suggests no standard existed for the number of coats required per jar. Another letter from the Zenon Archive, P.Cair.Zen. 4.59611 (mid-3rd cen. BCE), records a progress report concerning vessels sent for pitching. Two papyrus texts offer insight into the amount of pitch needed to coat a single amphora. The first, P.Oxy. 50.3595.16-17, specifies that 26 talents of pitch be provided to pitch 10,000 of the 15,000 four-chous jars mentioned in the contract. The second, P.Oxy. 50.3596.18-19, asks for 12 talents of pitch for 4,000 four-chous jars. Cockle notes that the emphasis on in P.Oxy.50.3595 confirms that only two-thirds of the vessels required pitch and that the amount of pitch per 1,000 jars (2.6 talents) equates roughly with the 3.0 talents per 1,000 jars stipulated in P.Oxy. 50.3596.128 In both contracts, the pitch is to be weighed out (by the measure of Aline), suggesting a private measure, but if this equates to the Egyptian talent of 27 kilograms,129 the amounts of pitch would be approximately 700 kilograms and 325 kilograms respectively. For P.Oxy. 50.3595, dividing 700 kilograms of pitch by 10,000 jars suggests that 0.07 kilogram (70 grams) of pitch was needed to coat a single vessel from bottom to lip, assuming no wastage and a single coating per jar. For126

This passage suggests different jobs for a superintendent of an estate to undertake in preparation for the vintage, including supervising the coating of vessels (specifically dolia) with pitch. 128 Cockle (n. 11) 89. In l. 21, there is reference to a special payment for these 10,000 jars. 129 J.W. Humphrey et al., Greek and Roman Technology: A Sourcebook (London 1998) 487. Cockle (n. 11) 89 makes this same assumption.127

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P.Oxy. 50.3596, the amount would be 0.08 kilograms per jar (325 kilograms of pitch divided by 4,000 jars). If these amounts are accurate, it should be possible to calculate the amount of pitch needed to coat jars of many different sizes. Several contracts for amphorae did not require pitched vessels. P.Cair. Masp. 1.67110.41 specifically asks the potter to deliver vessels (without pitch). An earlier section of this contract records a pitch-furnace in the workshop, suggesting the process could have occurred on site. Either the owners of the workshop required unpitched vessels or intended to send them elsewhere for pitching. Two letters from the Zenon Archive, P.Cair. Zen. 4.59611 and 4.59741 (both mid-3rd cen. CE), mention that finished jars would be transported to different locations for pitching. P.Cair.Zen. 4.59611, discussed above, implies similar circumstances. P.Tebt. 2.342 makes no mention of pitch whatsoever. However, a clause in line 23 which informs the potter that the delivered vessels be () (in the Oxyrhynchite form of the pottery workshops of the god) could be a reference to the same conditions seen above in the Oxyrhynchite lease contracts.130 The number of references to pitch suggests that obtaining it would have been a primary concern for amphora potters in Egypt. Many papyri preserve orders or contracts related to the sale of pitch for use by potters, indicating that purchase was the main option available.131 It fell to estate owners to either provide pitch to potters or give them money for obtaining it. One document with a reference to the sale of pitch, P.Mich. inv. 347.v (= SB 14.12107) (3rd cen. CE), published by Youtie, is interesting because it discusses how a potter selling an unspecified quantity of pitch to an estate later cancelled the sale. He realized that he needed the pitch for his own jars.132 Modern research into sources of pitch demonstrates that much of the supply would have been imported into Egypt to meet necessary demand. White in his study of Roman farming offers a similar picture for Roman Italy and Sicily by naming only the Po Valley and Bruttium as two potential sources for pitch130 Cockle (n. 11) 95, suggests the alternative reading of () compared to (). For a discussion of pottery workshops associated with temples, monasteries, and churches see P. Ballet, Temples, potiers et coroplasts dans l Egypte ancienne, in Autor de Coptos (Paris 2002) 147-159. 131 Some examples include: BGU 7.1547; P.Cair.Zen. 3.59417; P.Oxy. 1.159 = SB 22.15349; P.Oxy 14.1754; P.Tebt. 1.120; SB 14.12107; SB 20.14197. 132 Youtie (n. 10). Although the potter was present during the initial sale, his son formulated the agreement, and Youtie interprets the events as a case of filial ambition and paternal resentment (p. 129). However, why should we consider the rationale provided by the potter to be unreasonable? Only select regions produced substantial quantities of pitch for use by several industries and the potter in question may have faced a case of diminished supply and felt it prudent to retain his own stocks.

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in Italy.133 While discussing various plants and trees which served as ancient sources of pitch and resin, Serpico notes that Egyptian stocks would not have produced sufficient supplies to match demand.134 P.Oxy. 50.3596.18-19 offers insight into ancient sources of pitch. In this contract the potter requests that the pitch be [] (half Troadesian and half Siritic). Cockle remarks that the same descriptive markers for pitch appear in P.Oxy. 31.2570.23-25 (329 CE).135 For Siritic, she suggests a provenance along the Nile between Syrene and Meroe. For Troadesian there is no geographical correlate since these papyri are the only attestation of the term.136 A more definitive answer of the provenance of pitch used by Egyptian potters derives from two archaeometric studies. In the first study, the analysis of resin coating the bottom of two Egyptian made Late Roman amphorae (designated Late Roman Amphora 7) demonstrated an eastern Mediterranean origin for the pitch, possibly from the Levant, Anatolia, or the Aegean coast.137 Support for the Levant as a primary supplier of this material to Egypt appears in the second study, an analysis of bitumen used for mummification.138 The sample of Egyptian mummies included several of Roman date, all of which had bitumen from sources around the Dead Sea suggesting a preference for supplies from this region.139 Mayerson also cites two Oxyrhynchus texts that offer support for the import of pitch to Egypt.140 He interprets the large amount of pitch described in P.Oxy 31.2580 as having all the earmarks of the commodity having arrived at a port of entry where transport vessels unloaded large amounts of solid pitch.141 This pitch was then transported to another boat, presumably for transport to market or to an estate. The second text, P.Oxy. 41.2996, has a potter attempting to excuse his failure to repay his debts on time because he had just returned K.D. White, Roman Farming (London 1970) 67, 75. M. Serpico, Resins, Amber and Bitumen, in Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, ed. P.T. Nicholson and I. Shaw (Cambridge 2000) 431-438. 135 Cockle (n. 11) 94-95. The original publication of P.Oxy. 31.2570 does not clearly represent these two terms, but Cockle reconstructs their presence through examination of a photograph of this document. 136 Cockle (n. 11) 95. 137 C. Vogt et al., Notes on Some of the Abbasid Amphorae of Istabl Antar-Fustat (Egypt), BASOR 326 (2002) 72. 138 J.A. Harrell and M.D. Lewan, Sources of Mummy Bitumen in Ancient Egypt and Palestine, Archaeometry 44 (2002) 285-293. 139 Harrell and Lewan (n. 138) 291. 140 P. Mayerson, Pitch () for Egyptian Winejars an Imported Commodity, ZPE 147 (2004) 203. 141 Mayerson (n. 140) 203.133 134

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home with his pitch. Both Mayerson and the editor of the papyrus suggest the potter was abroad given the lack of supplies produced in Egypt. There is almost no reference in papyri to the actual process of coating jars with pitch. The technique is described in other sources, however, which offer evidence for methods employed by Egyptian potters and amphora potters in general. Most ancient attestations of pitching concern dolia. Pea provides a detailed description of the surfacing of these large vessels based on evidence from Columella and a panel from the Seasons Mosaic dating to the first quarter of the third century CE from Saint-Romain-en-Gal near Vienne.142 Columella (Rust. 12.18.5-7) proposes two techniques for the pitching of dolia including for those sunk into the ground (dolia defossa) and for those which were free-standing. The second account is relevant for comparison with amphorae. According to Columella (Rust. 12.18.6): At quae supra terram consistunt, complures dies antequam curentur in solem producuntur. Deinde cum satis insolata sunt, in labra convertuntur, et subiectis parvis tribus lapidibus suspenduntur, atque ita ignis subicitur, et tamdiu incenditur, donec ad fundum calor tam vehemens perveniat, ut apposita manus patiens eius non sit: tum dolio in terram demisso, et in latus deposito, pix ferventissima infunditur, volutaturque, ut omnes dolii partes linantur. But vessels which stand above ground are put out in the sun for several days before they are treated; then, when they have been sufficiently exposed to the sun, they are turned with their openings downwards and raised from the ground by the placing of three small stones underneath them; then a fire is placed underneath and allowed to burn until so strong a heat reaches the bottom that a hand placed there cannot endure it. Then the vessel is let down on the ground and laid on its side, and very hot pitch is poured into it, and it is rolled round and round that every part of it is coated with pitch.143 A panel from the Seasons Mosaic, depicting one man using a long-hand led tool to coat the interior of a dolium placed on its side with pitch while a man to the right stirs pitch in a pot over an open flame, corroborates this process.144 Potters could have placed amphorae on their sides and rolled them Pea (n. 3) 211-213. Translation from the Loeb edition. 144 This mosaic, first identified in 1891, was originally discussed in detail by J. Lancha, Recueil gnral des mosaques de la Gaule, III: Province de Narbonnaise, Vol. 2 (Vienne142 143

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to ensure complete coverage, and long-handled, thin tools would have been necessary to compensate for the narrow openings. One could argue, however, that rolling amphorae on the ground would result in a high degree of breakage and it is possible that amphora potters developed other methods for coating. One papyrus from the Zenon Archive offers indirect evidence that Egyptian amphora potters employed a similar technique to that described above. P.Cair.Zen. 2.59271.8-10 (251 BCE) has the following phrase: | [] | (prepare 10 ovens for pitching of the pottery). Liquefaction of the pitch thus also occurred for pitching amphorae in Egypt. The attestation of a pitch-furnace in P.Cair.Masp. 1.67110.38 also shows that pitch would be heated before being poured into jars. References to pitch are very common in papyri which relate to pottery production. Most contracts require that the vessels, which likely would have served as wine containers, be coated with pitch. One important fact we learn from these references is that the burden for obtaining pitch appears to have fallen on estate and workshop owners who either provided money or the substance itself. From several papyri it is also possible to begin calculating the amount of pitch required to coat a single vessel based on the quantities required for a set number of jars. (5) Transporting P.Mich. 11.615.4-6 = SB 24.16256.4-6 (ca. 259 CE) includes a clause which promises punctual delivery of new amphorae to an estates (wine-vat). This suggests that transportation of finished jars for delivery was the final operation undertaken by amphora potters during manufacture to ensure fulfillment of the contract.145 A similar conclusion is implied by P.Oxy. 47.3354.16-17 (257 CE), which specifies that laborers should test wine jars (at the place where they are transferred). Mees suggests that Mesore was a common month for delivery in contracts.146

1981) 208-225. 145 Several different options for transport, including beasts of burden (donkey, oxen, camel, horse, mule), wagons, or ships, existed in antiquity. The literature concerning transport, including the advantages and disadvantages of land versus water transport, is vast. R. Laurence, The Roads of Roman Italy: Mobility and Cultural Change (London 1999) 98, notes, however, that both types were individual components of larger transport networks and schemes and should not be considered in isolation. For transport in Roman Egypt see C. Adams, Land Transport in Roman Egypt (Oxford 2007). 146 Mees (n. 9) 249. For example, see P.Oxy. 58.3942.26-28.

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Several papyri mention the transportation of empty jars (). One letter from the Zenon Archive, P.Cair.Zen. 4.59741 (mid-3rd cen. BCE), refers to wagons, while another letter from the same archive, PSI 7.859 (mid-3rd cen. BCE), has donkeys conveying wine vessels, although they may have been filled at the time. P.Flor. 3.364 (3rd cen. CE) from the Heroninos Archive mentions camels transporting several items including empty jars. P.Oxy.16.1924.10-11 (5th/6th cen. CE), which includes empty jars of Gazition and Askalonion type as part of a river boats cargo, attests water transport. Numerous references to pottery in customhouse receipts could also indicate transport of empty jars.147 One document from the Zenon Archive, P.Col. 4.88 (243 BCE), preserves a complaint filed against a potter who, upon delivering his consignment of jars, failed to account for breakage which occurred en route. Breakage during transport must have been considered standard, and it would be interesting to know if the vessels which were broken were counted against the total required by the contract.148 A provision for the delivery of pottery preserved in several papyri, (at the drying floor of the workshop), shows that, in some situations, delivery did not require transport. 149 This accords with a statement by Pea: A significant portion of Roman pottery was probably consumed by the economic units that produced it, specifically amphorae manufactured in workshops operated either by agricultural estates that also produced the wine, oil, or fruit packaged inside them or by the cretariae (establishments for the confection of fish products) that produced the fish products packaged inside them.150 In these instances, transport would occur only after the vessels had been filled. This would also explain why many contracts for pottery do not preserve requirements for delivery. Ruffing (n. 9) 319-357 charts the different products (including pottery) attested in customhouse receipts recovered from Soknopaiou Nesos and Philadelphia based on the evidence found in P.Customs. 148 The loss of entire shipments due to a variety of factors could also occur during transport. M. Rhodes, Roman Pottery Lost en-route from the Kiln Site to the User a Gazetteer, JRomPotStud 2 (1989) 44-58, provides a gazetteer of examples of this phenomenon for Italy and the northern provinces. 149 This phrase occurs in P.Oxy. 50.3595.32-33, 50.3596.31, 50.3597.31, and P.Tebt. 2.342.22. 150 Pea (n. 3) 35-36.147

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There are numerous papyrus texts from Egypt which include information about the stages of production involved in amphora manufacture. These sources have hitherto been underused, or have been used as comparanda for the organization of production of mass-produced ceramics elsewhere such as sigillata wares. These texts offer important data in their own right, however, and are deserving of more attention. The activities described above would not have been unique to amphora production in Roman Egypt. When one considers other amphora producing regions of the Roman world, regardless of the product meant to be packaged in these jars, many of the manufacturing steps would have been common there too. There would have been some geographical variation, but overall the activities would have been recognizable across the Roman world. One procedure, coating the interior of amphorae with pitch, would have been relevant only for wine amphorae, but these vessels were produced across the Mediterranean. There is only one papyrus text from outside of Egypt which refers to pottery production. This text, P.Dura 2.76 (235 CE) from the site of Dura Europus in Syria, records a legal decision preventing the eviction of a potter from his workshop because of an existing oral contract. There is, unfortunately, no reference to the actual manufacture of pottery, but it does suggest the possibility that such texts were much more widespread in the Roman world than current evidence implies. Ultimately, pottery production is recognizable as such across the world, and the fact that amphorae from different production centers had consistent shapes and functions suggests that references in papyri to the production of these vessels are capable of offering insight into aspects of amphora production across the Roman world.151

151

See now A. Wodziska, A Manual of Egyptian Pottery, Vol. 4 (Boston 2009).

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 185-204

Pammachon, A New Sport1

Sofie Remijsen Leuven University

Abstract Reconsideration of SB 3.6222, a Greek letter from Alexandria mentioning a poorly attested sport, pammachon, here performed in the presence of the emperor Diocletian. Introduction Greek athletics has been a popular topic since the nineteenth century. For about a century and a half, the archaic and classical period were most intensively studied,2 but since the 1980s attention has shifted toward the imperial period.3 Scholarship presently covers the history of Greek athletics from the dark ages until the third century AD, with only the Hellenistic period studied somewhat less thoroughly. Late Antiquity, however, is still largely neglected. The period between the disappearance of honorific inscriptions in the late third century and the end of ancient athletics in the late fourth, or perhaps even early fifth, century is rarely treated more than fleetingly. Although there are few sources for late antique athletics, some of them still offer surprising new insights. One of them is the papyrus letter SB 3.6222. In this letter to his sister Sophrone, a certain Dios writes the colorful story of how he competed in athletic games in Alexandria. He may have penned the letter himself, as it is written in a near-literary hand. He uses capital let I am grateful to Willy Clarysse and the anonymous referees of BASP for their interesting comments, in particular for the suggestions of readings for SB 3.6222, and to Herbert Verreth for references on topography. I also thank Fabian Reiter of the gyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Preuischer Kulturbesitz, for the high quality photograph of the papyrus and the permission to publish it. The research was funded by a fellowship of the Research Foundation Flanders (Aspirant van het FWO). 2 One of the first studies on ancient athletics was J.H. Krause, Olympia, oder Darstellung der grossen olympischen Spiele und der damit verbundenen Festlichkeiten (Vienna 1838). 3 To name just two examples: M. Lmmer (ed.), Colloquium Agonistik in der rmischen Kaiserzeit = Stadion 24.1 (Sankt Augustin 1998); Z. Newby, Greek Athletics in the Roman World: Victory and Virtue (Oxford 2005).1

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ters and avoids ligatures. Professional scribes normally used a more cursive hand for documents. Details such as the apostrophe after in lines 12 and 34 and the written as a supralinear stroke at the end of line 33 indicate that Dios had received a good literary education and belonged to the upper class. With this literary hand, he demonstrates his cultural background. He does not write, however, in a consistent literary style. Many sentences are connected by a simple and sometimes Dios uses an unclassical form instead of the second aorist,4 which reflects spoken language. From line 30 on, the hand gradually becomes more cursive, as if the writer had lost patience toward the end. The first editor, W. Schubart, dated the hand to the third century, probably the first half.5 In a recent study, Fournet shows that a preference for legible, literary hands is typical of late antique letters and that the use of diacritical marks such as accents and punctuation appears in letters from the fourth century onward.6 Therefore, this letter rather belongs to the late third or fourth century. This date is in accordance with the style and vocabulary of the letter: the opening and closing formulas, the use of for the emperor (l. 14), the sport (l. 26) discussed in the second part of this paper , and the word in a formulaic greeting (l. 39) are all uncommon or even unattested until the late third century.7 One detail allows a more precise date. An unnamed emperor resided in Alexandria around Choiak 26, i.e. December 22. Septimius Severus and Caracalla were in Alexandria in the winters of 199 and 215 respectively.8 On the abovementioned paleographical grounds, these imperial visits are, however, too early. After Caracalla, no imperial visits are attested until the tetrarchy.9 Lines 14 and 34 , ll. 19 and 29 , l. 32 . The editio princeps is W. Schubart, Ein Privatbrief aus Alexandreia, Amtliche Berichte aus den kniglichen Kunstsammlungen 39 (1918) 141-154. The text was republished as SB 3.6222. 6 J.-L. Fournet, Esquisse dune anatomie de la lettre antique tardive daprs les papyrus, in R. Delmaire, J. Desmulliez, and P.-L. Gatier (ed.), Correspondances. Documents pour lhistoire de lAntiquit tardive (Lyon 2009) 23-66, esp. 32-37. 7 For the epistolary formulas, see U. Wilcken, Papyrus-Urkunden, APF 7 (1924) 111, n. 2, and the notes on ll. 1-3 below. As an official title, is attested from Diocletian onward, see D. Hagedorn and K.A. Worp, Von zu . Eine Bemerkung zur Kaisertitulatur im 3./4. Jhdt., ZPE 39 (1980) 167, n. 9. In the letter, the title is admittedly not used in an official context, so Diocletian cannot serve as a rigid terminus post quem. 108 of the 119 occurrences of in the papyri can be dated later than AD 250 (cf. DDBDP). 8 H. Halfmann, Itinera principum (Stuttgart 1986) 218, 225. 9 Halfmann (n. 8) passim. Alexander Severus planned a visit to Egypt, but there is no evidence that this visit actually took place. See P. van Minnen and J.D. Sosin, Imperial4 5

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The two tetrarchs who visited Egypt are Galerius and Diocletian.10 Only a few sources refer to Galerius expedition to Upper Egypt. Perhaps he was in the country from the winter of 293/4 until the spring of 295, but a stay in Alexandria is not attested. Diocletian besieged Alexandria from the autumn of 297 until the spring of 298. In the summer and autumn of 298, he made a tour through Upper Egypt. His next stay in Egypt was in the winter of 301 until the spring of 302. He was certainly in Alexandria on the 31st of March. This second visit seems the more likely date for Dios letter, as Diocletian certainly stayed in the capital and was not there for military purposes. The papyrus describes the emperor attending festivities in the center of the city (l. 32),11 which seems unlikely during a siege. In the fourth century, emperors were too busy fighting in the North and the East to visit Egypt. SB 3.6222: Text, Translation, and Notes The whole text of SB 3.6222 is presented here. This is not a completely new edition. For the convenience of the reader, we have copied the editio princeps of Schubart, which is excellent but not easily available. In two passages, ll. 1-3 and 18-26, a few corrections are proposed on the basis of a high quality photograph (by Sandra Stei) from the gyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung of Berlin (inv. P.9943). The notes only pertain to these two passages. Historical comments related to Dios participation in the Alexandrian games will follow in the next section. From Alexandria to ? ca. 25 x 14 cm December 301 (?) The letter is written on the recto in a near literary hand, using capital letters and avoiding ligatures. From line 30 onward, the hand becomes gradually more cursive. The address is written on the verso in the direction of the fibers, again in capital letters. On the verso there are also faint traces of another document of at least 12 lines, all illegible, written against the direction of the fibers, in a documentary hand from the third or fourth century AD, not unlike that of the end of the verso.

Pork: Preparations for a Visit of Severus Alexander and Iulia Mamaea to Egypt, Ancient Society 27 (1996) 171-182. 10 For the travels of the tetrarchs, see T.D. Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge, MA, and London 1982) 49-87. 11 The Lageion was located near the Sarapeion; see n. 34.

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To my dear sister Sophrone, greetings, Dios. Above all I pray to [the lord] god that you are doing well and also that the best things in life may be yours. I am wondering why until today you did not send us a single letter, although every day there are many acquaintances who are traveling north. Yet now, please, write back to us about your and our fathers wellbeing. We are glad to be here. I will tell you everything that has happened to me in Alexandria. So, when we arrived here, we didnt find the person whom we came looking for (but) we did find our lord the emperor visiting. He ordered that athletes be brought to the Campus and fortunately, I and the other five were selected, without the other athletes knowing. When I arrived there, I was at first paired up to do pankration and I had bad luck, as I do not know how to do pankration. So I was performing [poorly] for a long time falling. The god was about to I challenged the five to do pammachon. The emperor wanted to know whether I was [immediately] summoned to do it one man after the other. When I saw that [those who fell] were collecting dung from the contest, I challenged them for the pammachon. The prize for us was a linen tunic and hundred guilders. The [linen tunic] is inexpensive, and I received and I made debtors (?) and I got a gold coin with the money and the other five the tunic. This happened on the 2?th of Choiak. And on the 26th of the same month he held the festival in the Lageion and we performed there. And I got a silver prize, a sleeveless tunic, and the money. So dont be sad that we havent found the person, for good fortune has given us other things. Take care of your sister God willing, we will come to meet you after Mecheir, making you happy. Your sends you many greetings. I greet my dear father and all who love my soul. I pray that you are well, my dear sister, for many years. (Address on the back:) Deliver to my sister Sophronion, in D For there (?) is the house. From her brother Dios. To Sophrone from her brother Dios. 1-3 The opening formulas are typical of fourth-century private letters. Schubart read [ ] [] in the first line and [] [] in the second, but these supplements are without parallel. A common way of

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addressing is / with a kinship term.12 The [] [] in line 40 shows that also Dios used this. There are two common constructions for the formula: either with the name of the god in the dative without preposition13 or .14 [ ] at the end of line 2 points to the second construction, but there is no room for -, nor for the article, so the only remaining possibility is a construction with the infinitive, as in P.Oxy. 14.1678, 2-3: . The end of this sentence also perfectly fits the gap in line 3: [ ] . This formula is often considered typically Christian, and perhaps therefore avoided by Schubart. It has, however, been argued by Tibiletti and Choat that this formula could be used by both Christians and pagans.15 Although the formulas do not point to a specific religious interpretation, these first sentences do raise the question to which god Dios was praying. Several words in the letter are ambiguous in this respect. One of the main criteria of Naldini to identify Christians is the use of an article with . According to him, the lack of an article is always a sign of Christianity, while the presence of an article might point to paganism, but does not need to.16 An example such as P.Ammon 1.3, an undoubtedly pagan letter using without an article, indicates, however, that also the absence of an article cannot prove Christianity beyond doubt.17 SB 3.6222, moreover, uses once with and once without an article, which adds to the ambiguity. The rather uncommon name of Dios sister, Sophrone, is also equivocal. It is attested from the third century onward18 and reflects the late antique stress on virtue, which is often Christian, but not always.

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There are nevertheless some arguments for a pagan interpretation. The agonistic context is not one of them, for there is little proof that Christians were indeed opposed to athletics.19 The fact that Dios describes the festival in the Lageion as add , , or does, however, indicate pagan cult. Two arguments are based on Dios word choice. That the formula (l. 3-4) is more common in pagan letters is hardly decisive.20 A stronger argument is the reference to fortune (or Fortune) (l. 35: []), for the pagan belief in fortune was replaced in Christianity by the belief in the divine .21 Dios letter has this reliance on Fortune in common with the abovementioned letter of the pagan Ammon to his mother, as well as the use of god willing without the article and the near-literary handwriting.22 18-24 This passage contains unique historical details, but is difficult to read on the papyrus. To make sure, however, that conjectures do not influence our conclusions, this passage has been reexamined. Schubart read as follows: ] [] [] [] [ [] [ ] [] 20 [. ] [] , [ . . . . . . ] [ ] [] , [ ] [] , [] [] , [] . [] is too long for the two to three letter gap, as both the kappa and the phi are relatively broad letters. More likely is [] , as attested19 SEG 6.203 (3rd c.) and IK Klaudiupolis 44 (late 3rd c.) are Christian epitaphs of an athlete and an agonothetes. In Christian treatises, there is no strong opposition to athletics, as there was to horse racing and the theater. Cf. R.F. DeVoe, The Christians and the Games: The Relationship between Christianity and the Roman Games from the First through the Fifth Centuries A.D. (Ann Arbor 1987). Athletic metaphors, comparing Christ or martyrs to athletes or God to an umpire, are common in Christian literature. Cf. A. Koch, Johannes Chrysostomus und seine Kenntnisse der antiken Agonistik im Spiegel der in seinen Schriften verwendeten Bilder und Vergleiche (Hildesheim 2007). 20 E.g. P.Bas. 16, P.Oxy. 20.2275, 2783, P.Oxy.Hels. 50, P.Tebt. 2.418, SB 24.16077. Cf. Tibiletti (n. 12) 52. 21 Tibiletti (n. 12) 107. 22 P.Ammon 1.3 col. 2, 16 ( ), col. 4, 9 and 27 ( ).

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in line 12. In Schubarts interpretation, Dios was matched up unter die ersten Paaren der Vollkmpfer. With this partitive genitive, one expects, however, two articles: . Without an article, is normally adverbal, meaning firstly or at first.23 The absence of an article makes the nominative future participle [] more likely. For the verb in the meaning of pairing pankratiasts, see P.Oxy. 7.1050, where a pair of pankratiasts is descripted a . It is not clear on what the supplement [] in lines 20-21 is based. As in line 24 is also uncertain, there are no parallels within the text. I have, therefore, left out Schubarts supplement. The expression [ ] is not known from other papyri either, so this supplement is left out as well. Dios challenges the others to do pammachon. In line 26, this is written . In line 22, there is no preposition. The as alternative is with a present infinitive. Therefore, Schubart read [] . There are two objections against this construction. Firstly, Schubart opted for the plural form because there is no space for . However, names of sports are never used in the plural. Secondly, Dios generally prefers straightforward constructions and relatively short sentences. With two lines of Greek between [] and the infinitive , this construction is considerably more elaborate than the rest of the letter. One expects the present infinitive to follow directly after [] . The alpha of can be explained if this is the beginning of the infinitive. The verb derived from is not attested, but [] after the example - (l. 19-20) is the most attractive option. This verb thus completes the sentence. The letters - the first three letters are in fact clearly legible then start the next sentence. The gap allows for more letters than the seven read by Schubart. [ ] seems plausible. This sentence continues until in line 24. This infinitive must refer to the nearest indicative. The ink is very light in the first half of line 24. Schubart read , but that verb cannot be combined with an infinitive. is the obvious alternative. Schubart connected this verb to the preceding line with the uncommon . The second vertical bar of Dios pi often transcends the horizontal stroke, so the eta can easily be read as a pi. The upsilon is written in very light ink. The vertical stroke is clear, but the top of the letter is not, so it can either be an upsilon or a rho. The second option completes the verb . This refers to the summoning of the athletes () by the herald before each match, not to the23 For examples of this usage in third and fourth century AD papyri, see CPR 8.28, P.Flor. 1.21, P.Herm. 43, P.Nag Hamm. 78, P.Neph. 13, P.Ross.Georg. 5.6.

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challenging () by Dios. This leaves room for about seven letters between in line 23 and . Of the first letter only the curved top is visible (suggesting an epsilon, mikron or sigma), the second is an upsilon, the rest of the word (in l. 24) is invisible. There is not enough space for a second verb and conjunction. It suffices, however, for an adverb such as []. 25-26 Dios repeats here that he challenged others. The first part of line 25 is mostly lost, but the context makes clear that Dios knew who had performed [] (for ) [ ] fits the context and the termibadly. nology (cf. l. 21). Examples such as (l. 3) and [] (l. 4) show similar itacisms. It is not clear who are . It can be excluded that they were cleaners. The participants had been specially selected beforehand, so it is unlikely that Dios would have been allowed to challenge members of the cleaning staff. The context suggests that Dios challenged the other unsuccessful sportsmen. Collecting dung was probably Alexandrian slang for losing. Also Aristophanes used the word derogatorily for dirty fellow.24 A more literal interpretation can, however, not be excluded: perhaps the crowd threw excrement at the losers. Dios at the Games This letter provides several interesting details for the study of ancient athletics. The date about AD 300 makes it one of the rare sources documenting the phenomenon in Late Antiquity. The study of athletics in the Roman Empire relies heavily on inscriptions and civic coins. These sources are abundant for the first two and a half centuries AD, but decline rapidly in the second half of the third century, due to the changing epigraphic habit and the disappearance of civic mints. Greek athletics remained popular somewhat longer, but is difficult to follow due to the lack of sources. This letter shows that there was still enthusiasm for Greek athletics in Alexandria about AD 300. Dios attributes a considerable role to the emperor. He requested athletes to hold the first contest, was curious to see Dios performing and led the second celebration. Dios may have exaggerated the emperors role somewhat to make his story more interesting. Particularly the curiosity of the emperor to see Dios compete might be fanciful. There is, however, no reason to doubt the fact that an emperor was interested in athletics around AD 300. It is known from Malalas that Diocletian presided the Olympic games of Antioch in the summer of 300. In this function of president, he offered generous gifts to the victors.2524 25

Aristophanes, Vespae 1184. Cf. LSJ9 979 (s.v. ). Malalas 12.310.

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Both games Dios participated in were Greek-style athletic contests, as appears from the typical prizes and from the presence of a pankration-competition. They took place in December, which was a convenient moment to organize contests, as this is exactly the time of the year when professional athletes visited Egypt every other year. The agonistic circuit of the imperial period was tightly organized. Professional athletes travelled around the Mediterranean to compete in the most prestigious games that all had their own date within a four-year cycle. This had stimulated the development of a fixed travel schedule for the athletes, repeating itself each Olympiad.26 If organizers of local games wanted to attract professional athletes, they had to schedule their games soon before or after the major games in the region. This led to a chronological concentration of games in each region. In Egypt, all games took place in the autumn and winter following the Olympics and in the autumn and winter following the Pythian games.27 The three possible dates for our text all coincide with a winter following the Olympics: Galerius possibly in the winter of 293 and Diocletian in the winter of 297 and 301. The most important games in Egypt, for example the Olympics of Alexandria and the Kapitolia of Antinoopolis, were all scheduled in the Pythian year. In the autumn of the Olympic year, the top athletes would prefer the Athenian Hadrianeia. But a group of lesser athletes, who did not stand a chance at the top games, would travel to Egypt, for example for the Olympics of Oxyrhynchus. These were the the other athletes (l. 17) who were surprised to see Dios and his five friends selected to compete and gave him trouble in his pankration match. Dios first contest seems to have been an ad hoc contest to entertain the emperor. It took place at the Campus. This Latin word means training ground, in the first place for the army, but it was also applied to grounds for recreational exercises. In imperial-age Italy and Gallia Narbonensis, the word is even attested for buildings with a function comparable to a gymnasium.28 It is, however, not taken over by the Greek language with this meaning, as Greek had already several more precise terms for sports infrastructure. The Roman army introduced the word in Egypt with the meaning of military training26 For a reconstruction of the schedule of the major games, see P. Gouw, Griekse atleten in de Romeinse Keizertijd. 31 v.Chr. 400 n.Chr. (Diss. Amsterdam 2009) 33-95. Crucial texts for the reconstruction of this schedule are published in G. Petzl and E. Schwertheim, Hadrian und die dionysischen Knstler. Drei in Alexandria Troas neugefundene Briefe des Kaisers an die Knstler-Vereinigung (Bonn 2006). 27 J.-Y. Strasser, Les Olympia dAlexandrie et le pancratiaste M. Aur. Asklpiads, BCH 128-129 (2004-2005) 434-439. 28 W. Decker and J.-P. Thuillier, Le sport dans lAntiquit. gypte, Grce, Rome (Paris 2004) 162-165.

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ground, specifically for the cavalry. In Oxyrhynchus, a former military camp with a campus was already incorporated in the city as by the mid-first century AD. The campus seems to have become a kind of piazza around which houses where constructed. The name could be used as a pars pro toto for the city quarter as well: .29 This area is perhaps also the location of the monastery known from the fifth century AD.30 Assuming a parallel, Calderini-Daris interpret the campus of Alexandria as a piazza as well.31 The Roman military camp was, however, not located in the city itself, but in nearby Nicopolis. Military records attest the functions of magister campi, citator campi ( ) and optio campi ( ) among the cavalry of this camp.32 In his description of Alexandria, Strabo adds that Nicopolis was also the location of several quadrennial agones.33 As this small town is not known to have had its own contest, let alone several, these must be those of Alexandria. It was in fact very common that games were held outside of a city rather than in the center (e.g. the games of Antioch took place in Daphne). Already in the Ptolemaic period, the Ptolemaia were held at Hiera Nesos rather than in Alexandria itself.34 This village to the east of Alexandria should probably be located not far from where in the reign of Augustus Nicopolis was founded, the new town that took over the agonistic function of the village.35 Nicopolis received its own stadium,29 P.Mich. 3.171 (AD 58): ; P.Mich. 3.179 (AD 64): a house ; P.Oxy. 2.247 (AD 90): a house [] . 30 P.Wash.Univ. 1.46. 31 A. Calderini and S. Daris, Dizionario dei nomi geografici e topografici dellEgitto greco-romano, 3.1 (Milano 1984) 64. 32 Rom.Mil.Rec. 48 and 76, cols. 2, 19, and 20. 33 Strabo 17.1.10. 34 PSI 4.364: . Traditionally, this is identified as a village in the Fayum, but as agones were only organized by Greek poleis, not by Egyptian villages, it must be the Hiera Nesos near Alexandria. See S. Remijsen, Challenged by Egyptians: Greek Sports in the Third Century BC, in Z. Papakonstantinou (ed.), Sport in the Cultures of the Ancient World: New Perspectives (Abingdon 2010) 110-112. 35 PSI 5.543 contains an itinary from Pelousion to Canopus. As the last part of this journey, the man traveled north from Hermopolis Mikra to Canopus, keeping the Canobic branch of the Nile on his right and passing through four villages, of which Hiera Nesos was the last. Therefore, it should be located not too far south-west of Canopus. The fact that games were held here must mean that there was at least a basic sports infrastucture. For this reason, it seems not illogical to connect it with the hippodrome that Strabo located between Alexandria and Canopus.

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and between the Canopic gate and Nicopolis, Strabo locates the , which was either a large flat terrain traditionally used as racing course hippodromes were rarely monumental constructions in the Greek world before the fourth century AD or the name of a street along, or leading to, this terrain. The name of this terrain of street may predate the foundation of Nicopolis, which was still quite recent in the time of Strabo (ca. 62 BC AD 24), and go back to the race course of the Ptolemaic period. When the army settled in Nicopolis, the cavalry needed a flat terrain of a considerable size for its exercises, and the nearby racing course must have been the most logical location for this campus. The above letter shows that the campus was also still used for its original agonistic purpose as late as AD 300. The prize for this contest was a linen tunic and , literally a hundred gold coins.36 Luxurious clothing was not an unusual prize.37 The hundred coins are, however, confusing, because in the next sentence, Dios boasts that his prize was, besides the money ( ), one gold coin ( ). The single gold coin must be an aureus. The obviously consisted of smaller coins. What were then the hundred ? If these were aurei, this would be a very large prize for games with non-professional participants like Dios. The other prize, the tunic, would have meant nothing in comparison. It is also not compatible with the next sentence, where Dios has only one gold coin. Perhaps Dios used the word for a smaller denomination, probably the money he later refers to as . Around 300, some terminological confusion is certainly understandable, as the important monetary reform replacing the Alexandrian tetradrachmas with Roman coins had taken place in 296.38 This suggests that the are the same coins as in the next sentence and that the aureus was an extra prize, perhaps a special award from the emperor for Dios special achievement. As we do not know which coins Dios is talking about, I have translated as guilders, because this word is comparable to with respect to its etymology (gold) and its usage (a coin no longer in gold), but avoids identification with an actual ancient coin. Dios second contest took place at on the 26th of Choiak. This cannot mean sacred contest, as is a masculine substantive. The games A second possibility would be a hundred in gold. In that case the hundred would refer to a major accounting unit, either the denarius or the drachma. This is however impossible, as one gold coin had the actual value of 1200 denarii, i.e. 4800 drachmas, around 301 (R.S. Bagnall, Currency and Inflation in Fourth Century Egypt [Missoula 1985] 22). 37 Historia Augusta, Alexander Severus 33, Carinus 19-20. 38 For the monetary reform under Diocletian, see Bagnall (n. 36) 19-25.36

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were held on the occasion of a religious festival (e.g. ). A second-century temple account from the Arsinoite nome mentions the start of the eight days of Sarapis on the 26th of Choiak.39 A feast for Sarapis would be consistent with the location of the Lageion immediately south of the Sarapeion. The Lageion was a hippodrome, also used as stadium, built in the center of Alexandria shortly after the foundation of the city.40 Dios prizes for this contest were a silver [] supplemented by Louis Robert41 , a tunic and money. According to Robert, brabeion is the technical term for the large cylindrical objects often found in agonistic scenes on coins, reliefs or mosaics in the imperial period. The discussion about the actual shape of these objects is still ongoing. Usually they are referred to as agonistic crowns, following the interpretation of Robert.42 One mosaic depicts one carried by a handle on the inside.43 In a recent contribution, Edith Specht proposes that they were a kind of basket.44 Both contests were local games as were many in the Roman Empire. A remarkable detail is, however, the event won by Dios, namely pammachon. Schubart assumed that Dios won in pankration, as the two words are traditionally considered synonyms. Dios himself wrote, however, that he did not know how to do pankration. When he was matched up with a pankratiast, apparently a professional athlete, he was not successful, but afterwards his luck turned when he challenged the other five amateurs to pammachon. We are, in other words, dealing with two different sports. To discover how pammachon differed from pankration and how this seemingly new sport fitted into the Greek athletic tradition, it is necessary to reexamine all the references to pammachon.

Sofie Remijsen and

The name of the sport is derived from , meaning fighting with all means, not necessarily in an agonistic context. The adjective is already attested in Aeschylus Agamemnon, and it continues to be used with this general meaning throughout Antiquity, including Christian literature.45 Because of its obvious resemblance to the word pankration, already in the fifth century BC substantives derived from it were used as poetic synonyms for pankration or pankratiastes. Bacchylides used for pankration; in Theocritus and epigrams we find , as an adjective or as a substantive, for pankratiastes.46 In the lexica, instruments developed to explain the rare words mostly found in poetry, the neuter substantive is also presented as a synonym for pankration.47 In prose, these poetic synonyms are rare. In a list of legendary victors of the heroic age, Hyginus gives Herakles as the victor of the pammachum, quod nos pancratium vocamus.48 For his list, Hyginus relied heavily on poetry, as legendary victors were a popular topic in victory odes. In the Latin translation, the iota of / disappeared. Dio Chrysostomus copied Hyginus when compiling a similar list.49 This is the only certain instance of the neuterAeschylus, Agamemnon 168; Aristophanes, Lysistrata 1320-1321; Plato, Euthydemus 271 c 7; Hippocrates, Praeceptiones 13.3; Plutarchus, Praecepta gerendae reipublicae 804 b 12; Acta Joannis 4.5; Justinus Martyr, Apologia secunda 13.2.2; Clemens Alexandrinus, Paedagogus 3.2.9.1; Eusebius, Contra Marcellum 1.4.1.3. The name Pammachius (PLRE 1:663) also reflects the general meaning of the word. 46 Bacchylides, Epinicia 13.43; Theocritus, Idyllia 24.114; Anthologia Graeca 7.692.2 and 16.52.4; IG 7.2470.1. Cf. Pollux, Onomasticon 3.150. Pollux equates the word pan kratiastes with a , but he illustrates this with an inadequate example from Plato. In Euthydemus 271 c 7 Plato describes two pankratiasts as , but here the word should not be understood as a synonym, but in its original meaning of fighting by all means, as the two athletes fought intellectual battles as well. 47 The first lexicon to include this is Eudemus , edited in B. Niese, Excerpta ex Eudemi codice Parisino n 2635, Philologus Suppl. 15 (1922) 145160. His explanation is copied literally by Photius, Lexicon 375.7, Suda 121 and Lexica Segueriana 327.11. 48 Hyginus, Fabulae 273.5: pammachum, quod nos pancratium vocamus, and 10: Hercules Iovis filius pammacho. The editio princeps gives pammachum and pammacho. Later editors have made the emendations pammachium and pammachio. The comparison with Dio Chrysostom (see next note) shows that the editio princeps is to be preferred. 49 Dio Chrysostom, Oratio 37.14.5: . Dio gives a victor list for the first Isthmian games. Hyginus is his most likely source, for there is a clear similarity between Dios Isthmian list and Hyginus list of victors in Argos. This victor list for Argos mentioned just a few lines after a much shorter list for the Isthmian games45

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noun as a synonym for pankration. Clement of Alexandria also used the neuter , but here the meaning is less clear. There are no strong arguments for identifying it with either pankration or the new sport of the more recent papyrus letter. It seems to express the idea of a total fight, with the same general meaning as the adjective.50 SB 3.6222 is the earliest attestation of as a separate sport. This interpretation is confirmed by ILS 5164, an honorary inscription from AD 375378 for the athlete Philoumenos, who had obtained victories in four different events: pammachon, wrestling, pankration, and boxing.51 Also in the fourth century, Eusebius compared a martyr to a victor in the sacred games, victorious in the pammachon. As this passage does not go back to agonistic poetry and was written in a century when pammachon was attested as a separate sport, one may assume that Eusebius also referred to the new sport.52 The athletes doing pammachon were not called , but with the Latin ending -arius typical of professions. Pammacharii figure in six texts from the fourth and fifth centuries.53 The anonymous author of the Expositio totius mundi mentioned them in his description of the entertainment sector in Syria.54 In a story has not only the word pammachum, but also the names of seven victors in common with Dios Isthmian list. Dio also refers to in Oratio 8.19.5-6: , . It is hard to say whether he uses the word here in its wider original meaning or as a synonym for pankratiastai. 50 Clement of Alexandria, Paedagogus 2.8.66.2 and Stromata 7.3.20.4. In Stromata 2.20.110.3 and Paedagogus 3.2.9.1 he uses the adjective. 51 ILS 5164.6-7: Pammacho lucta prancati (sic) cestibusque id est pygme. F. Rausa (I luoghi dellagonismo nella Roma imperiale. Ledificio della Curia Athletarum, MDAIR 111, 2004, 537, n.1) also recognized that pammachon is a separate sport in this text. 52 Eusebius, De martyribus Palaestinae 11.19.2: . 53 A seventh attestation of pammacharii, found in Ambrosius, Explanatio psalmorum XII 36.55, is difficult to interpret. On the one hand, as pammachon was definitely a separate sport during Saint Ambroses lifetime and since the word pammacharius is nowhere attested as a synonym for pankratiastes, one could indeed take this as a seventh reference to athletes specialized in pammachon. On the other hand, he describes three types of athletes (wrestlers, who fight fairly and squarely, boxers, who hit their opponents with their fists, and, instead of the expected pankratiasts, pammacharii, who can do anything), a context which argues for the identification of pammacharii with pankratiasts. It seems to be a case of confusion of athletic terminology. Saint Ambrose did, after all, grow up in Gaul and spend a long time in Milan. To the north of Rome, Greek athletics always remained something rather exotic. Also the first editor of this text found it confusing and changed the pammacarios/panmacarios of the manuscripts to . See app.crit. of the 1999 edition by Petschenig and Zelzer (CSEL 64). 54 Expositio totius mundi et gentium 32.

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of the Apophthegmata, an officer helped a group of pammacharii on their way to Constantinople to get a boat from the governor.55 In another story, an old hermit compares a Christian fighting evil with a pammacharius fighting two adversaries.56 Saint Jerome mentions pammacharii as a type of athlete, besides runners and those who throw the discus.57 Firmicus Maternus and PseudoTeuchros tell which position of the stars makes pammacharii.58 The lexicon of Hesychius, mentioning pammachon in the lemma about Cypriotic wrestling, brings the total number of sources on this sport to ten. Pammachon as a Sport The rarity of the sources makes it hard to evaluate the position of pammachon in ancient sports culture. One should not automatically conclude, however, that pammachon was a marginal phenomenon, as references to athletics are generally rare in the fourth century. The wide geographical dispersion of the places in the sources (Rome, Constantinople, Cyprus, Alexandria, Gaza) indicates, on the contrary, that by the fourth century the sport had spread over the whole eastern and central Mediterranean. An indication about how pammachon differed from other combat sports can be found in the lexicon of Hesychius (fifth to sixth century AD), who defines it as Cypriotic wrestling: what some call pammachon, an unsophisticated sport practiced outside the palaistra, since the people from Cyprus wrestle untechnically.59 This description of pammachon as a kind of free-style wrestling corresponds to what we read in SB 3.6222. Dios must have been a strong young man, able to defend himself, as he was chosen to compete before the emperor, but apparently he had not developed his technique by intensive training in the gymnasium, for he says himself that he does not know how to do pankration. It seems that at a certain point in the imperial period, a kind of street fighting in which everything was allowed was developed (in Cyprus?) as a reaction against the overly technical combat sports of the gymnasium. One can assume, however, in view of the source of inspiration and the later evolu55 Apophthegmata 39. Ed. F. Nau, Histoire des solitaires gyptiens, Revue de lOrient Chrtien 12 (1907) 171-181. 56 Apophthegmata patrum 5.18.4 = Apophthegmata 166. Ed. F. Nau, Histoire des solitaires gyptiens, Revue de lOrient Chrtien 13 (1908) 47-57. 57 Hieronymus, Tractatus LIX in psalmos, ps. 128, 52. 58 Firmicus Maternus, Mathesis 8.8.1. For a new reading and for pseudo-Teukros, see Robert (n. 41) 89-92. 59 Hesychius, Lexicon K 4648: , .

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tion, that pammachon still resembled the traditional sports in some aspects, for example nudity. In the fourth century it was practiced by the same kind of athletes. Philoumenos, for example, excelled in all four combat sports. A passage in the Apophthegmata patrum claims that sometimes one pammacharius was matched up with two adversaries in order to win the crown.60 This was not a normal practice for Greek combat sports, where athletes were matched up with one another by lot. It is, however, not impossible that sometimes one pammacharius fought several adversaries. This would at least explain why Dios mentions explicitly that he fought his adversaries one at a time (l. 24). Several sources name pammachon as an event at Greek style games. In the papyrus, these are insignificant games, but Eusebius and the Apophthegmata even mention sacred games. This last detail surprises, as no new event had been introduced in the traditional athletic games since the early Hellenistic period. One does not expect such a breach with the tradition at important games such as the Olympics. The comparison with pantomime is interesting in this respect.61 Pantomime was very popular with the crowd in Rome and the rest of the empire. Most pantomimes were lower class entertainers and had no connection at all with the Greek agonistic circuit. Some of the most successful and famous pantomimes nevertheless won victories in games for Greek artists. These were smaller contests that hoped to attract an extra crowd with the inclusion of this popular event. The event also appeared at some of the sacred games. In the imperial period, there was an inflation of the status of games. Many contests were called Olympic, Pythian, etc. because they were organized after those examples. Although they had the status of sacred games, they were often not prominent on the international level. It was only at these lesser sacred games that pantomime was included. The most important contests had no need for such an untraditional attraction. Something similar may have happened with pammachon. At some point in the third century the sport reached a certain degree of popularity. As combat sports were the most popular type of athletics throughout the imperial period heavy athletes are considerably better attested in honorific inscriptions and in art it is not surprising that this new free-style combat sport responded to popular taste. About 300, when Dios took part in the Alexandrian games, both the Dalmatian emperor and the Egyptian Dios knew the sport. Its introduction at the Greek games, however, seems to have been rather recent. The sport is not attested in the numerous inscriptions about athletics from the first three Apophthegmata patrum 5.18.4 = Apophthegmata 166 (ed. Nau [n. 56]): . 61 L. Robert, Pantomimen im Griechischen Orient, Hermes 65 (1930) 106-122; J.-Y. Strasser, Inscriptions grecques en lhonneur de pantomimes, Tyche 19 (2004) 175-212.60

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quarters of the third century. In the games for Diocletian in Alexandria, the event seems to have been introduced only during the games, when Dios had failed in pankration, but was allowed to challenge his mates for pammachon. Dios won, although he was not a professional athlete. In the early fourth century, pammachon was gradually included as an official event at more games and the sport apparently became professionalized. At this point, this untechnical fighting must have become subjected to more rules. Athletes specializing in this sport received their own name, pammacharii. These pammacharii seem to have been a widely differing group. Men such as Dios, with his literary hand, and Philoumenos, who received a statue in Rome, belonged to the upper class and enjoyed a certain degree of prestige. But the pammacharii from the Expositio totius mundi, which lists them among lower class circus entertainers, or from the Apophthegma that describes them as a group of professionals travelling to Constantinople seem more humble men, for whom pammachon was little more than an ordinary job. These differences had, however, nothing to do with the character of pammachon, but with fourth-century Greek athletics in general. In Late Antiquity, Greek athletics were performed as extra entertainment in the circuses. These circus athletes belonged to a completely different social group than the career athletes of the traditional Greek games. This evolution in fourth-century athletics has been described elsewhere.62 Here it suffices to say that the diversity among the pammacharii did not differ from that among contemporary wrestlers or boxers. The end of pammachon did not differ from the end of the traditional Greek sports either. After the fourth century, athletic games became very rare. The all-rounder Philoumenos, whose statue was erected in the late fourth century in the headquarters of the international athletic guild headquarters that were demolished about thirty years later63 is the last athlete known to have travelled from one contest to another as a career. Groups of athletes performing in circuses could still make a living in the fifth and sixth century,64 but afterwards, ancient Greek sports, even a relatively recent one such as pammachon, sank into oblivion.

S. Remijsen, Blushing in Such Company? The Social Status of Athletes in Late Antiquity (forthcoming). 63 Rausa (n. 51) 537-554. 64 E.g. the pammacharii of Apophthegma 39 or the group of athletes of P.Oxy. 34.2707.62

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 205-219

The Interchange of and in Spelling - in Documentary Papyri

Walter Shandruk University of Chicago

Abstract Review of the documentary evidence for words starting with -. Whereas (originating in insider terminology) is almost always written with iota, appears often enough as (originating in outsider terminology). Given the semantic issues at play and early literary attestation to spelling confusion, was likely an early and contemporary lexical alternative if not the original spelling. 1. and Interchange: Defining the Problem A widely recognized phenomenon in the spelling of (Christ) and other words and names based on the root - is the alternative spelling with eta (-). Unfortunately, observations concerning this interchange have hitherto been limited largely to footnotes and commentaries,1 while a systematic collation and examination of the papyrus evidence is lacking. Fundamentally, that such an alternative spelling (-) developed at all has to do with the phonology of koine Greek. Francis Thomas Gignac states: The process of itacism, which resulted in the eventual identification of the sounds originally represented by , , , , , and in /i/, was well advanced in Egypt by the beginning of the Roman period.2 However, unlike most variants caused by such interchanges, the one of present concern, > , generates a completely good Greek adjective, , whose general meaning, useful, good of its kind, serviceable (LSJ I.1) and when specifically applied to persons, F. Blass, Miscellen, Hermes 30 (1895) 467-470; G. Tibiletti, Le lettere private nei papiri greci del III e IV secolo d.C. (Milano 1979) 118, n. 31; G.H.R. Horsley, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity 3 (Grand Rapids 1983) 129-130; A. Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri (Cambridge, MA, 2008) 140-141, especially n. 56. 2 F.T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods 1 (Milan 1976) 235.1

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good, a good man and true (LSJ II.2), comprises a semantic range curiously amenable to the religious figure of Jesus Christ and the Christian and Jewish conceptions of God in general. Indeed, it is an adjective widely used in the Septuagint (LXX) to render ( e.g. Ps 24:8, 99:5, 144:9, Nah 1:7, etc), which again appears in the New Testament (1Pet 2:3). Awareness of this was not missed in antiquity as witnessed by the punning on the two roots found in Justin Martyr.3 What a collation of the papyrus evidence may then help answer is whether the - root variants merely comprise a phonetic aberration or reflect a more complex etymological set of forces. Pertinent to the above question is the fact that is independently attested as a proper name both during the Christian era (SB 4821, 8002, 9876, 10879, 13252, 14530, 15099, 15786, 16000; P.Mich. 8.521)4 and earlier (Appian, Mithridatica 32.2).5 The existence of this proper name, and the adjective from whose root it is formed, points to the semantic interference between - and - words. This is certainly not merely hypothetical, since four early Latin sources already attest to the confusion.6 Suetonius refers to Jesus as Chrestus (Claud. 25.4). Tacitus, writing about the same time, is likely another witness to Chrestus.7 In response, Tertullian (Apol. 3.5) asserts that in fact, Christian, insofar as meaning is concerned, is derived from anointing (Christianus 1 Apol. 4.1 Goodspeed: , (Therefore, nothing good or bad is judged by a name apart from the actions which fall under the names scope; and insofar as is concerned the name of which we are accused, we are the finest people; all translations authors own unless otherwise indicated); 1 Apol. 4.5: (For we are accused of being Christians, but it is not right to hate what is good). 4 The name is often accented as , but this is an artifact of the editorial process. Notice the change from to when P.Lips. inv. 362, whose incipit was originally published in SB 4513, was later published in full as SB 13252. 5 32.2 Viereck-Roos: , , <> ( he sent Socrates, nicknamed Chrestus, the brother of Nikomedes, along with an army). 6 However, the manuscripts for Plinys letters 96 and 97 (app. crit. in R.A.B. Mynors, C. Plini Caecili Secundi Epistularum Libri Decem [Oxford 1963] 338-340), which mention Christus and Christiani, attest the correct spelling with i. A plausible explanation for this may arise from the fact that he personally interviewed various Christians (96.3: Interrogavi ipsos an essent Christiani) and may have had the opportunity to understand that it was Christus and not Chrestus that they were following. Another possibility is that, unlike in Tacitus (see note below), the manuscript tradition solely reflects the later standardization of the spelling with iota/i. 7 R, Renehan, Christus or Chrestus in Tacitus? PdP 122 (1968) 368-370.3

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vero, quantum interpretatio est, de unctione deducitur), but that it is also mispronounced as Chrestianus by Roman officials (a vobis, the audience being defined in 1.1 as Si non licet vobis, Romani imperii antistites ). Not much later, Tertullians criticism is echoed by Lactantius, this time with regard to Jesus epithet Christ, which the ignorant change into Chrestus (Div. Inst. 4.7.5). The question then arises to what extent such semantic interference can be detected in the Greek sources. The following examination will focus on papyri from Egypt, with occasional reference to non-Egyptian material to the extent that it may help reinforce or clarify certain issues observed within the data set. 2. The Data The primary source for the data has been TheDuke Data Bank of Documentary Papyri (DDbDP) as searchable through the Papyrological Navigator on papyri.info with verification against the published corpora for those texts examined below. The chronological bracket is set from the first to the sixth centuries, inclusive. Later Byzantine material has been eschewed because the present study is primarily concerned with early orthographic tendencies; the end of the sixth century has been specifically chosen as the cut-off point since it seems to provide an adequate compromise between, on the one hand, having to introduce an unwieldy number of papyri without any clear advantages commensurate with the amount of collation involved, and, on the other hand, omitting important evidence for the early spelling of and . At the same time, the extensive use of nomina sacra, which elide the iota versus eta usage altogether, significantly limits the number of early instances of - words.8 This has, in part, determined the choice to limit the present8 The possible instance of Christ in P.Leid. J 395 ( = PGM XIII) 289-292 has been left out. The line of the incantation begins: . , , . . K. Preisendanz, (ed.), Papyri Graecae Magicae 2, 2nd edition (Stuttgart 1974) 102, reads , which would require a translation like, Listen to me, Christ I being in tortures. But, this is awkward and is especially suspect because of the absence of any Christian phraseology. Morton Smith notes this, but accepts the emendation, in H.D. Betz (ed.), The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation, Including the Demotic Spells (Chicago 1986) 180 , n. 68. It also does not reflect the more natural reading present in the manuscript, where is clearly legible. G. Luck, Arcana Mundi: Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds (Baltimore 1985) 98, chooses to hedge his bet, translating: Hear me, Christ [or, Helpful One] in my torture. The argument of M.J. Edwards, in a Magical Papyrus, ZPE 85 (1991) 232-234, that here we may have a reference to a Gnostic pun between and in an attempt to divest Christ of its Jewish elements is too contrived to be probable. Edwards is right, however, to point out the Judaizing nature of the spell, especially in the use of

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study to documentary papyri, since nomina sacra seem even more prevalent in literary Christian texts, perhaps due to their increased role as religious texts (one important exception is cited below, namely, the Codex Sinaiticus). The use of Coptic data has been avoided for a different reason: Coptic orthography of Greek loanwords introduces more complex phonological and orthographic issues while at the same time being at a further remove from potential etymological forces that may have informed the use of - words. The data has been divided into two categories, the first (A) covers the papyrus references to as the appellative of Jesus (total 63 papyri), while the second (B) covers the references to the adjective (total 12 papyri).Christ Line/Usage 2 ] 5-6 4, 7 14-15 () | 3 [] 12 14 5 1, 2 1 [] 1 ] 7 127 [ 1, 2, 3, 4 4

Date 330-340 III/IV IV IV IV IV IV IV IV/V IV/V IV/V IV/V 489 V V

the verb , which he notes is generally associated with creative powers of the Old Testament God. is also found as a reference to the Jewish god in the LXX in a number of occasions (e.g. Ps 24:8, 9; Ps 107:1; Daniel, Prayer of Azariah, 3:89). Therefore, the probable explanation is that Christ was never intended and that is indeed the correct reading, referring to the Old Testament God, resulting in a translation along the lines of Listen to me, one useful in (helping from) tortures, help

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A preliminary survey of the results brings out a striking contrast between the spelling of and . Seven (11%) out of the 63 cases (A4, 6-9, 29, and 58) of Christ are spelled with an eta (and one, A2, with the diphthong ) while all but three (B8, 11, and 12, the first an spelling) of the 12 cases of Christian are spelled with an eta (75%). Under the general assumption that interchanges based upon purely phonological factors should be fairly random, the aforementioned difference in distribution of iota and eta spellings between these two terms is quite striking. If the sixth century material is left out for fear that its dominance (49 out of the 63 cases) in the Christ data may be skewing the relative frequencies on account of it being late and more orthographically standardized, the obtained result is still significant: only four (29%) out of the 14 cases of Christ (A4, 6-9) are spelled with eta, while all but one (B8) of the 10 cases of Christian are so spelled (90%). Even given the relatively small sample sizes, a shift from 11% (or 29%) eta spellings in Christ to 75% (or 90%) in Christian is a significant change and provides the first clue that more complex factors than purely phonological ones may be at play. One possibility is that all of the 12 instances of Christian in the papyri happen to be the product of, on average, lower quality scribes whose spelling, then, is the result of inadequate familiarity with orthographic conventions. A close examination of the orthographic regularity of the particular documents in question, along with their authorship, can help provide an answer. Another possibility, hardly considered in the past, is that an alternate lexicalized form of Christian was widely used in the early centuries, only to fade away under the pressure of an etymologically grounded regularization of the orthography by the early medieval period. Accordingly, all nine documents attesting an eta spelling will be closely examined below, both with regard to orthographic regularity and authorship, in order to help determine which of these scenarios may more accurately account for the differential distribution in spelling. (B1) P.Oxy. 42.3035.4: <> This summons actually an arrest warrant dated to 256 is the earliest exactly dated instance of Christian in the papyri. The author is a non-Christian, calling for the arrest of Petosorapis, son of Horus, a Christian. While the text is short, it is noteworthy that is the only orthographically anomalous word (one other word has a grammatical error). That Petosorapis is explicitly referred to as a Christian probably is a reference to his profession, that is, he

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is probably a member of the clergy.9 The missing tau reflects a phonetic phenomenon whereby in koine the consonant cluster -- becomes assimilated to --, especially after /i/.10 (B2) P.Oxy. 43.3119.14: and 18: [] While quite fragmentary, this text is some type of official correspondence and dates to 259/60. It may be a judicial inquiry concerning property held by some Christians.11 Nevertheless, is the only word here appearing twice that shows any orthographic anomaly, that of the eta and iota interchange. The date and apparent content probably indicate a non-Christian author. (B3) PSI 14.1412.10: <>[] In this third century letter, Sarapammon is writing home, mentioning, among other things, that he is sending two talents of gold via Sotas, a Christian. Reinforcing the observation in B1 that Christian refers to a profession, Sotas, a known bishop, here too is called a Christian. Given the sum of money and the self-appellative [() (Olympian victor),12 the writer is likely upper class. In view of this, and of the fact that the bishop is not addressed as papa, we may surmise that the writer is probably not Christian himself. In this text, Christian is not the only anomalously spelled word (whose missing tau, again, is due to the phonetic phenomenon described in text B1). Lines 2 and 3 show > , line 10 has an elided alpha in <>, in line 14 both instances of are not inflected correctly, and the in the same line is witness to > . Therefore, it is possible that the eta and iota interchange in is merely another consequence of the writers imperfect orthography. Nonetheless, it should be noted that apart from the elision, the phonetic interchanges all deal with diphthongs, and in the 23 lines of the letter, no other changes to eta occur. (B4) SB 12497.50: This text, a list of candidates, includes a certain Dioskoros, a Christian, in second place. Aside from the spelling of Christian, the text, fragmentary as it is, is fairly clean. In the fragments of the fifty lines that survive, only Luijendijk (n. 1) 180-81. Gignac (n. 2) 66; Horsley (n. 1) 129-130. 11 J.E.G. Whitehorne, P. Oxy. XLIII 3119: A Document of Valerians Persecution? ZPE 24 (1977) 187-196. 12 Restoration from Luijendijk (n. 1) 137. PSI restored the word as [.9 10

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five other anomalies occur. In line 5 is written with lambda / interchanges being common for Egyptian speakers (the same error occurs in line 8 with the same word); , in the same line, shows > . has > (the most common interchange in papyri after > 13) in line 42, and has > in line 48. As the text was composed in three hands, one responsible for the candidate names and another for the descriptions of the candidates (with the third, the reviewer, responsible for the rankings),14 the above anomalies, few as they are, seem to be limited to the second hand. This increases the possibility that too may simply be a result of the second hands (slightly) defective orthography, however, three facts militate against it: (1) even if a second scribe is responsible for about half of the text, roughly 25 lines, the amount of anomalies is still small, (2) nowhere else is he responsible for an interchange for eta, and (3) only one time is a non-diphthong iota involved (), although ample opportunity was available. As for authorship, the early date (third century), the location (Arsinoe), and fact that the attested Christian is actually foreign to the region an Alexandrian, with a Roman gentilic no less suggests that the scribes (and reviewer) are likely non-Christian. (B5) P.Lond. 6.1919.17: This letter, dating to 330-340, is, along with B6, the first papyrus mentioning Christian that has a manifestly Christian writer. The context of the self-reference is an exhortation for the readers to keep each others well-being in mind. 12-17: [ () ] [ [ ] () ] () () [] () (Therefore, I pray to evermindful God, at all times, for you and your brothers in Christ. For it is appropriate to remember each other in Lord Christ for each ones well-being; and in doing so we shall be called Christians in Christ). On the one hand, it is possible that the spelling of Christian is due to an imperfect knowledge of orthography since the letter in general is witness to rather numerous errors (17 besides the two - words). On the other hand, this exhortation recalls to mind Eph 4:32: , , , F.T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods 2 (Milan 1981) 192-194. 14 P. van Minnen, The Roots of Egyptian Christianity, ArchivPF 40 (1994) 75-76.13

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(And be good, kindhearted, and forgiving to each other, just as God in Christ forgave you). In light of this, it is possible that the author is intentionally punning on the -/- roots. The probability of this is reinforced by an other likely example of punning in lines 32-33: (And doing this, we will be called fellows in Christ/fellow doers of good). The parallel construction with lines 16-17 is striking and makes this first self-reference to Christian in the papyri a probable pun on the root. | [] 15 (B6) P.Lond. 6.1913.6-7: This contract, arranged by Arelius Pageus, a priest from the village of Hipponon, shares with B5 the privilege of being one of the earliest letters by a Christian writer to make use of the adjective Christian although, in this case, the term is , which is a compounding of the Latin-derived adjectival form in -ianus by the Greek adjectival affix . It is evident, then, in this particular text, that retained the Latinate sense of the -ianus suffix which was used to refer to, among other things, the adherents of a person.16 The same is found in B8, where []\/ is read, there modifying books. A curious feature of B8 is that apparently the scribe was first inclined to form the adjective purely along Greek lines; afterwards it was corrected to conform to the Latin lexical form at its base. Orthographically, B6 has a few irregularities, but none of them apart concern eta/iota interchange: four instances of > in from the same word, , four instances of > in different words, one instance of > in , and omission of a sigma in . While the letter is 21 lines, each of fairly long length, the number of orthographic irregularities raises sufficient suspicion: it is not clear, on internal grounds, whether the spelling of with eta is due to error by the writer or use of a lexicalized form. (B7) P.Dubl. 31.10: This contract for a linen-weaving workshop dates from 355. Notably, it has no explicit references or turns of phrase that might suggest the writer to be Christian. The reference to concerns a fort in which the workshop is located ( ). Orthographically, the 27 lines of the document are fairly regular, but three of the four anomalies, besides the spelling of Christian, that do occur are im The reading of [] is exceedingly uncertain. For other possibilities see the editio princeps, p. 51. 16 E.J. Bickerman, The Name of Christians, HTR 42 (1949) 116.15

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portant; while one of the four anomalies concerns a paragogic nu attached to , the rest involve some type of interchange with eta. In lines 11 and 16, one finds and , respectively, instead of and . In line 21 > is witnessed in the spelling of . This strongly suggests that the anomalous spelling of may speak to the scribes own failure rather than be the appropriation of a more general lexicalized form.17 (B9) P.Laur. 2.42.2: Tibiletti dates this letter to roughly the fourth or fifth centuries.18 Bagnall puts the terminus post quem between 367/8 and 368/9.19 The main curiosity concerning the label of is precisely to whom it belongs. The recto begins: 1-3: [[ ]] , [] <> (I was very much pained and we are very exceedingly pained on account of you having dared to do such a wicked deed against Atheas, being a Christian, because she is also a laywoman and has never been found doing worldly things). If is to refer to Atheas, then it is in the wrong case. If it is the addressee, then how does it relate to the second clause, beginning with ? If the addressee is the subject of both participial phrases, then the finite verb , in the third person, does not make sense. Horsley takes the first participial phrase to refer to the addressee and the second to Atheas.20 Tibiletti understands both phrases as referring to Atheas (Atheas che cristiana, e perch, anche essendo laica),21 whom Luijendijk follows.22 This latter interpretation seems to be the more likely, even if the second in the second clause is awkward. The alpha in both participles may be the result of the not-uncommon > change, and iota adscripts were rarely written after the first century CE.23 Moreover, the content of the letter on the verso side seems to address a male. The contract had been drafted by Aurelius Theodoros on behalf of Aurelius Pasnos, himself being illiterate. 18 Tibiletti (n. 1) 196. 19 R.S. Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity (Princeton 1993) 282, n. 126. 20 G.H.R. Horsley, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity 2 (Grand Rapids 1982) 173. 21 Tibiletti (n. 1) 197. In the apparatus he suggests the reading . 22 Luijendijk (n. 1) 39, n. 57. See also M. Choat, Belief and Cult in Fourth-Century Papyri (Turnhout 2006) 47, n. 185. 23 Gignac (n. 13) 22.17

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The usage of Christian here, then, appears to be used to emphasize correct behavior it is implied that certain behavior is expected towards Christians. Such an admonition makes most sense if coming from someone within the community, and so, even though no explicit indicators of the writers Christianity are apparent in the letter, the writer is nonetheless probably a Christian. Orthographic anomalies besides those mentioned above are also found in ( > ), (infinitive ending > , with a redundant sigma), ( > ), and in the next line ( > ), and ( > ). Given the short length of the recto text (5 lines), this is a significant number of anomalies and, as with B7, the spelling of may have to do with error on the part of the writer. (B10) P.Oxy. 43.3149.3-4: |<> Here one finds the reverse of the -- cluster phenomenon observed in B1. Sigma sometimes drops before a stop, especially before dentals.24 The writer is certainly Christian as is evident from his address of Theon as Apa, the use of nomina sacra and the presence of a cross before the first line. The dating of the letter is uncertain, perhaps fifth century. The length is 15 short lines, in which the five orthographic anomalies amount to a notable proportion. Besides |, which comprises two of these anomalies, one finds ( > ), ( > ), (gemination of and > ), (insertion of labial and > ). Once again, the irregularities of the letter in general raise the possibility that the eta/iota interchange arises from the writers error. 4. Analysis Error on the part of the writers of four texts (B1-2, 4-5) is not the likely origin for the eta spelling of Christian. Three of these texts show few irregularities; the fourth text, while being more irregular, makes a conscious pun on a spelling of Christian which suggests that the writer was especially attentive to the spelling of the term and would not have likely erred, which is to say, he considered the eta spelling to be a legitimate lexical form. The remaining texts (B3, 6-7, 9-10) show considerable orthographic irregularity, which, when each text is taken on its own, raises the likelihood of the eta spelling being the result of a slip by the writer. However, when considered in light of the nearly uniform spelling of with iota in the papyri, the explanation of random phonetic slips in B6-7, 9-10, which, notably, are of Christian authorship, becomes more problematic.24

Gignac (n. 2) 130.

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Indeed, even the most common vocalic interchange in the papyri, < > , is only witnessed once in the spelling of (A2). This remarkable regularity reveals the close attention paid to the spelling of Jesus appellative. This is paralleled with the spelling of , another eta word, which has no etymological Greek grounding to guide its spelling, yet it is itself misspelled only once, in A16. This reduces the possibility that extreme laxness should suddenly be found when the word forms the root of the adjectival formation in the very same types of texts, where is so regularly spelled correctly. Of particular interest is the distribution of usage according to an insider/ outsider breakdown. The earliest examples of the term Christian in the papyri are as labels by outsiders.25 The term itself, insofar as one can tell from the apologetic responses by Justin Martyr, et al., and Plinys own hesitation as to whether the name itself should be punishable,26 was construed early on as a negative moniker. Whether the term itself originated in fully hostile circles has been a matter of debate.27 However, morphologically, its Latinate origins are clear. It is an adjective formed with the -ianus ending to refer to the followers of Christ and was subsequently taken over into Greek (see note 16). The complete lack of a purely Greek formation indicates that at the time it was coined it had no internal use as a moniker for self-description by Christians. By the second century, however, internal dynamics, beginning with Ignatius, start the process of redefinition in order to make Christian an acceptable even a positive badge, which reaches full force by the third century.28 Its origins as an outsider term coupled with the independent existence of (= ) as a proper name, as mentioned earlier, may help account for the unusual orthographic situation in the papyri surrounding the spelling of - words. Taking seriously the complaint by Tertullian and Lactantius that the unlearned, but popular, spelling is Chrestus, the possibility exists that early on, in the first century, almost as soon as the Latin term was For fuller discussion, see Luijendijk (n. 1) 38-40. 96.2: nomen ipsum, si flagitiis careat, an flagitia cohaerentia nomini puniantur. 27 The two main camps have been those arguing that the term was originally an internal Christian formation (Bickerman) and those for whom it was clearly an external moniker coined by (Latin-speaking) non-Christians (i.e. the local Roman authorities in Antioch; see P. Trebilco, The Early Christians in Ephesus from Paul to Ignatius [Grand Rapids 2007] 554-560). Townsend has taken a middle road, suggesting that it was an evolution of the phrase (1Cor 15.23) formed to provide the external authorities with a self-description. See P. Townsend, Who Were the First Christians? Jews, Gentiles and the Christianoi, in Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity, ed. E, Iricinschi and H.M. Zellentin (Tbingen 2008) 214-217. 28 J.M. Lieu, Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford 2004) 250-259.25 26

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coined, the name upon which it was being formed was (mis)understood as the ever-popular . Indeed, it is possible that this confusion occurred even during the coining of the term, which would make the earliest label for Christians Chrestiani. Whether the confusion happened during or immediately after the term was coined, it seems to have quickly entered popular use by outsiders. Both Suetonius and Tacitus attest to it. Pliny, however, who had more intimate contact with Christians, could have derived his correct spelling from them. In addition to the popularity of the name , one could scarcely expect outsiders of the first century to immediately associate Christian, when pronounced (through itacism both roots would have the same /i/ sound), with the - root certainly, there would have been little awareness of the particular theological backdrop for the Jewish > development of the anointed appellative. The spelling with eta quickly became lexicalized in Greek, which accounts for its widespread attestation in the papyri. Just as Christianus/ was afterwards reabsorbed by Christians and gradually employed as an expression of self-definition, the alternate spelling accompanied it. So intransigent was the popularity of this alternate spelling that even Christian writers could employ it. An example of its popularity is its use in the Codex Sinaiticus ( )in all three places where Christian is attested in the New Testament (Acts 11:26, 26:28, and 1Pet 4:16). Although most New Testament manuscripts employ nomina sacra here, curiously does not. The eta spelling, of course, is attested only in the original hand ( ;)*a subsequent corrector carefully erased until only a single stroke for an iota was left. It would be hard to attribute the eta spelling in to a banal, phonetically-based orthographic error. Outside of Egypt, the eta spelling is found among the numerous inscriptions from Phrygia.29 The results of the above investigation are pertinent to a full understanding of the development of the term and its place in both the early Christian and non-Christian mindsets. On a more mundane level they are also relevant for the work of the textual critic, since typically the iota spelling is assumed while restoring readings in the papyri. If, in fact, the eta spelling is the dominant one in sub-literary texts, especially in non-Christian sources, it is reasonable that restored readings should reflect this. An example comes from P.Kell. 1.48, a manumission document dated to 355. The cause for manumis sion of the female slave is stated in line 4 as [] (because of an excess of Christianity (i.e. Christian sentiment)). Presumably,29

Horsley (n. 1) 128-134.

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here a generalizing noun has been created from with the suffix. If this is the case, its presence in a sub-literary document should rather , as the more probable restoration. suggest the eta spelling, [] This is all the more so as the owner may well be a fresh convert otherwise, it would be difficult to explain why only now Christian sentiment should lead him to release the slave. Furthermore, such self-references to Christian zeal are rare (indeed, this would be the earliest) and he still feels no issue with following up in line 5 with the traditional invocation (under Zeus, Earth, Sun). These points suggest that he has recently become an insider a convert and during this transition has brought over the outsider terminology, precisely where we should expect to find an eta spelling.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 225-229

The Pharanitai in Sinai and in Egypt

Philip Mayerson New York University

Abstract Discussion of the unit (ala) of Pharanitai at Bau in the Antaeopolite nome in P.Flor. 3.297, now P.Reg.Fisc., of AD 525/6. The appearance in ll.192, 219, 302 of P.Flor. 3.297, now P.Reg.Fisc., dated to AD 525/6, of a military unit named for Pharan in Sinai and stationed at a site near Antaeopolis in Egypt called Bau is unusual for several reasons. Unlike the later military units of the Justinian Scythians and the Justinian Numidians stationed at or near Antaeopolis that were named for imperial provinces and also carried the name of the emperor, the Pharanitai had no claim to such distinction. As their name suggests, when the first units of Pharanitai were created, they were drawn from a small, inhabited site, Pharan, in the remote reaches of the Sinai Peninsula, which Ptolemy called a village and Eusebius a city. Despite differences in size and background these military units faced the same problems as the Scythian and Numidian forces: desert marauders threatening settled communities. In Egypt, the Blemmyes or their like were the malefactors; in Sinai it was the tribal Bedouin. To meet these threats to unprotected settlements, especially those on the frontier, the imperial government created military forces out of local populations with expertise in horsemanship and archery, or by forming camel corps, such as the Most Loyal Theodosians that were stationed at Nessana on the border between Palestine and Sinai. The Pharanitai at Bau may have made up such a military unit.1 The position of Pharan, close to a perennial source of water and on the west-north-western route from Aila (Aqaba) through Sinai to Egypt, made the site a way-station for Nabataean and earlier travelers as is attested to by the

1 Other occurrances of Pharanitai in the DDBDP: P.Cair.Masp. 67054.2.8, an unnamed Pharanite at Bau receives one solidus as a gratuity; SB 14.11854.7-8, Philoxenos and Justus; P.Lond. 5.1735.24, Flavius Victor the son of John, a member of a numerus at Bau; P.Oxy. 68.4700.3-5, Flavius Serenus son of Antiochus, a member of a numerus from the splendid city of Oxyrhynchus.

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remains of pottery characteristic of the inhabitants and of transients.2 With the rise of Christianity, the region of Mount Sinai, where Moses was said to have received the Law from God, became invested with an aura of holiness that attracted large numbers of worshippers as well as hostile Bedouin. The reaction between these two groups gave rise to a kind of literary fiction in which we are informed of the life and death of the hermits who inhabited the region between the Holy Mountain and Pharan and of their encounters with the Bedouin whose lifestyle of raiding and trading threatened them. Death at the hands of Bedouin or their equivalent was deemed martyrdom, now no longer by imperial decree but through a baptism of blood ( ) as recorded on an inscription in the well-known monastery built on the order of Justinian at the foot of Mount Sinai.3 The fate of the hermits inspired a literature, mostly fictional, of their devotion to their belief and how they met their death and martyrdom in a region devoid of any protective force, police or military. The best example of this literature is the Ammonius narrative, dated variously between the fourth and sixth century, entitled concerning the Holy Fathers killed by the barbarians on the mountain of Sinai and in Raithou.4 The barbarians in this account were not only Bedouin but Blemmyes as well, who were also called Moors (). Briefly stated, Ammonius, an Egyptian monk, unhappy about the persecution of his bishop, travels to Mount Sinai in the company of devout Christians. The death of a Saracen (Bedouin) sheik precipitates a sudden attack by Saracens who, after committing atrocities on the defenseless hermits, killed all they could find in the surrounding region of Mount Sinai. This event is followed by news received at Pharan that a ship that had sailed from Aila and lay at anchor in a port in the territory of Ethiopia (Adulis?) had been taken over by a band of 300 Blemmyes who demanded to be taken to Clysma. Forced by adverse winds to anchor at Raithou on the Red Sea, the Blemmyes intended to attack the monastic community at the springs of Raithou in the hope of finding money and other valuables. Leaving the ship in the hands of one of their men and a Christian sailor, they attacked the community, killed men, women, and2 On the archaeology at the site of Pharan, see P. Grossmann, Die antike Stadt Pharan (Cairo 1998). 3 See my article, An Inscription in the Monastery of St. Catherine and the Martyr Tradition in Sinai, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 30 (1976) 376-379, reprinted in P. Mayerson, Monks, Martyrs, Soldiers and Saracens (Jerusalem 1994) 129-133. 4 See my article, The Ammonius Narrative: Bedouin and Blemmye Attacks in Sinai, in The Bible World: Essays in Honor of Cyrus Gordon, ed. G. Rendsburg et al. (New York 1980) 133-148, reprinted in Mayerson (n. 3, 1994) 148-163. See now also D. Caner, History and Hagiography from the Late Antique Sinai (Liverpool 2010).

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children, but found nothing of value. The Blemmyes returned to the springs intending to make for Clysma only to find that the Christian guard had killed the Moor and sank the ship by running it aground. Meanwhile, since the news of the raid had spread, a force of 600 select archers from Pharan gathered and marched on the Blemmyes. Given the impossibility of retreat, the Blemmyes fought until they were all killed by the superior force of Pharanites. The latter lost 84 of their men. There is nothing in this account, nor in others like it, that speaks of a military or police unit for the protection of the local population. For that we have to go to a report, dated ca. 570, of an unnamed European pilgrim who came from Piacenza and who is generally given the name of Antoninus.5 Unlike other pilgrims to the Holy Land, Antoninus provides a clear-eyed view of topographical and local features as he and his party made their way from Gaza to Elousa and then on to Nessana from which point they went into the inner desert of Sinai with camels carrying their water, each person entitled to a sextarius of water in the morning and one at night. The first Bedouin of Sinai the travelers met were a sorry lot of men and women begging for bread in exchange for sweet-smelling roots of desert plants and cool water from hidden desert wells. On the eighth day Antoninus and his party arrived at Mount Sinai where they were greeted by a multitude of hermits and monks. Antoninus describes the famous monastery built by Justinian simply as one surrounded by walls and states that in it were three abbots knowledgeable in Latin and Greek, in Syriac and Egyptian and Persian (Bessa), as well as many interpreters for each language. Shortly after and the arrival of Antoninus and his friends at Mount Sinai an announcement was made that a Bedouin festival, some of which Antoninus had observed, was coming to a close and that the desert, through which he and his party had come, would not be safe. They decided to make their way back to Jerusalem through Egypt by way of Pharan, which Antoninus describes as a city fortified with walls of brick and as a place bare of anything but water and palm trees. He also notes that the inhabitants claimed to be Midianites, descendents of Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses. The Piacenza pilgram then goes on the say that there are 80 houses of soldiers, with their wives, in a public place, who receive an allowance of grain and clothing from Egypt, and do no work, because there is no ground for them to till, since it entirely consists of sand. And besides their days allowance, they each possess Saracen mares, receiving an allowance of straw and barley for them at public expense, with which they5 P. Geyer (ed.), Itinera Hierosolymitana Saec. III-VIII (Wien 1898) cc. 38-40 (pp. 184-186).

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patrol the desert for the protection of the monasteries and the hermits against the treacherous attacks of the Saracens.6 Antoninus continues, saying, However, the Saracens are not driven away by fear of them, for when they go out of the city, they lock up the well and take the keys away with them. And they from the city do the same thing, through fear of the treachery of the Saracens, because they have nothing when they go outside of the walls except the sky and the sand. From the observation by the pilgrim from Piacenza we get the impression of an organized mounted military force of limitanei (frontier forces) established at Pharan from which units were sent to Egypt as exemplified by P.Flor. 3.297, now P.Reg.Fisc. As soldiers the Pharanitai were entitled to food (annonas) and clothing (vestes) as well as fodder for their horses, all at public expense and provided by Egypt since, as Antoninus observed, agriculture was not practiced in the waste land that surrounded Pharan. Turning now to the unit in P.Flor. 3.297, now P.Reg.Fisc., that was stationed in Bau,7 we observe that money was being collected, and recorded in three6 Ibid. c. 40 (p. 186): Octingentas condomas militantes in publico cum uxoribus suis, annonas et vestes de publico accipientes de Aegypto, nullum laborem habentes, quia nec habent ubi, eo quod totum harena sit, et praeter singulis diebus habentes singulas equas Saracenas, qui capitum paleas et hordeum, de publico accipient, discurrentes cum ipsis per heremum pro custodia monasteriorum et heremitarum propter insidias Saracenorum. With the words octingintas condomas we are faced with a crux. Usually translated as 80 houses the text, as it stands, should be translated as 800 families. J. Gascou, BIFAO 76 (1976) 154, refers to this passage in his article on the bucellarii. Regarding the appearance of the Pharanitai in P.Flor. 3.297, he sees 800 groupements familiaux ... dtachements de participer en Egypte, aux cts des troupes du duc Athanase, la rpression de linsurrection blemmye. C. Zuckerman, Le registre fiscal d Aphrodit (Paris 2004) 150, takes the number as 800 familles militaires and notes the reading of 80 (octogintas) in one of the manuscripts, and then states, Pour les chevaux, quelles ont en trs grand nombre, elles touchent des rations (capita) dorge et de bl. Both Gascou and Zuckerman fail to note that the Pharanitai are alae, small units of rangers patrolling the desert. Eight hundred men would be too many for a numerus (cf. P.Ness. 3, p. 21). The number 80 (octogintas), as noted in ms. G is more reasonable than 800 (octingentas). As for the meaning of condomas in the phrase militantes ... cum uxoribus suis, how do we account for the explicit mention of the wives of the soldiers if we translate condomas as groupements familiaux or familles? I believe that condomas here has an associated meaning: places for the housing of families, houses, or in the case of the Bedouin, tents. 7 The site of Bau has troubled a number of editors who have taken it as an abbreviation of a known site and have suggested a number of possibilities. It turns out that the word in P.Grenf. 2.95.1-2 identifies a monastery and a church within it. Zuckerman (n. 6) 150 informs us that Bau/Peboou is about 150 km south of Aphrodito.

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entries, for provisioning the Pharanitai. The (a charge for rations), once (for rations and kanonika), of approximately one solidus was imposed upon the contributors. Each solidus was duly weighed, and if its full weight was lacking, the shortage was noted. A summary of the three entries in terms of solidi and carats is provided by C. Zuckerman on the basis of P.Reg.Fisc.: 19 solidi 20 carats, 43 solidi 6.75 carats and 11 solidi 15 carats. The total amount contributed for provisioning the Pharanitai at Bau was 75 solidi 17.75 carats minus kanonika or 63 solidi 5 carats.8 It should be noted that not one solidus contributed by an individual, church, or monastery was a full-weight coin, nor were individual solidi reduced by the same number of carats. It is possible that the contributors were responsible for paying the Pharanitai one solidus each for their rations, but in that case it did not require one full-weight solidus each. Moreover, there are three entries for 2 solidi in ll. 223, 305, and 315. It is likely that the Pharanitai in P.Flor. 3.297, now P.Reg.Fisc., were a modest military or police force based at or near the monastery of Bau/Peboou. In many respects, Bau and its monastery were similar to Pharan, a relatively small, predominantly religious population living in isolation in open country and subject to periodic raids by hostile forces. A unit drawn from Pharan itself (rather than from the local, Egyptian population as exemplified by P.Oxy. 68.4700 [n. 1]) would not have been out of place at Bau.

Notes on Papyri P.Got. 9: The Subscription

P.Got. 9 was published in 1929. It was subject to an immediate run of corrections proposed by distinguished reviewers (Bell, Schmidt, Schubart, and Zucker; see BL 2.2:69), but not until 1966 did it receive detailed re-examination. This was by R. Rmondon, Papyrologica , C 41 (1966) at 173-178 (emendations recorded in BL 5:36) in a discussion praised by Jean Gascou (Fiscalit et socit en gypte byzantine, Paris 2008, 47, n. 23: son brillant commentaire de P.Goth. 9), who himself offered a close analysis of the text and some of its difficulties (ibid. 177-178; original discussion dating to 1985). The papyrus is a contract acknowledging receipt of a years wages, four solidi minus 20 carats, dating to AD 564. It is addressed by Aurelius Victor (), , accountant of the express post (cursus velox), to the chief (epimeletes) of the public treasury of Oxyrhynchus. The word appears twice, once with its opening intact, once with its close: [, line 5, ], line 15. For a parallel example, see P.Harr. 2.238.10-11 (Oxyrhynchus, AD 539, lease of a symposion [restored]): ]. | [ ]. Surprisingly overlooked in discussions of P.Got. 9, including its own commentary, has been Victors subscription at lines 22-24, written in his own hand ([] [] [, line 7). As published these read: [22 23 [] [] [ 24 . . . . . 22 read A minor point is that the editio princeps does not record the paragraphos that runs above the alpha-upsilon-rho of (the dot under the rho is not needed) at the start of line 22. More importantly, the image of the papyrus, P.Got. plate 2, shows that the beginning of line 23 is only occupied by mu-omega-nu, crudely drawn. There are no omicron and sigma. Instead nu is immediately followed by [] [. (The editorial dots are unnecessary.) In other words, Victor simply wrote his patronymic without declining it into the genitive case. The next line, 24, in fact begins with the expected [][. More can be discerned after this, but nothing is secure, except for a horizontal superlinear stroke and a likely omicron before the very last break. The supralinear stroke is probably the oversized top of Victors tau (compare that in his own name in line 22). It has been impossible to reconcile these and the several preceding traces with what the body of the text (see lines 19-20, cf. 9) calls for, namely, something like (or )

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, which, given the size of Victors handwriting, would have to have run over into a twenty-fifth line, with no guarantees as to spelling and draftsmanship. Accordingly, lines 22-24 should now be read as follows: [-] 22 23 [][][] [- - 24 [][ . . . ] . . . 22 read 22-23 read More important than such corrections in detail, however, is recognition from the P.Got. plate that Victor was a slow writer, laborious in his penmanship. He may even have been, as both Traianos Gagos and Arthur Verhoogt were independently quick to point out (in Ann Arbor, June 9, 2009), lefthanded. The lambda of Aurelius is worth special remark: it is written in reverse with a long left leg and short right. Thus it is amusing to read the comments by A.C. Johnson and L.C. West (Byzantine Egypt: Economic Studies, Princeton 1949) on this text, especially when they opine (p. 166): Probably the tabularius [i.e., Victor] was employed as a secretary at the posting station. Secretary indeed, but apparently one qui ne savait pas crire (H.C. Youtie, Scriptiunculae [Amsterdam 1973] 2, chapter 34) or at least not very well.1 Loyola University Chicago James G. Keenan

1 I had earlier convinced myself that the solution to this conundrum lay in emended readings: [ in line 5 and ] in line 15, a Latin loanword (stabularius) equivalent to the Greek (stable man); but, as the BASP referee pointed out, reasons of space and palaeography make these changes impossible. Surprising to me is the Aureliate status both of Victor and the P.Harr. 2.238 tabularius.

234

Notes on Papyri P.Got. 9.13-15 Revised

In reading over the Greek text of P.Got. 9, I stumbled over syntactical and semantic problems in lines 13-15 that have not yet been satisfactorily explained. I give the text of the edition first. Aurelius Victor acknowledges the receipt of his salary: [] , [], [] [ ] 15 [] [ ] [] The editor, Hj. Frisk, translated this as follows: pour les deux travaux, celui de teinturier et celui de tapissier, que jai excuts conscutivement, ainsi que pour le service que je remplie comme employ of the postal service. If we translate this back into Greek, the relative pronoun in the lacuna at the end of line 14 becomes , and in the next line we get [, not [. This was indeed suggested by K.F.W. Schmidt (see BL 2.2:69 for the reference). As R. Rmondon pointed out in C 41 (1966) 173-178, the payment of the salary is for a charge associated with the postal service undertaken by Aurelius Victor on behalf of two professional associations. Rmondon removed the relative pronoun at the end of line 14 altogether and translated the result as follows (p. 177): Aurelius Victor acknowledges the receipt of his salary pour les deux corporations des teinturiers et des tapissiers, dont sans discontinuit jai assum et assume la charge de tabularius. If we translate this back into Greek, we notice a difficulty with Rmondons reading: in line 15 it should have been [, not just [. Moreover, Rmondon does not justify his translation of in line 14 as sans discontinuit. In papyri means following. The editors translation will also not do: successivement is not what means in papyri either, and the explanation the editor gives in his note on the line (that someone could not have two occupations at the same time) was rendered obsolete by Rmondons reinterpretation of in line 13, not as occupations, but as professional associations (of which Aurelius Victor was not a member but a kind of employee in the service of the state, but paid for by the two professional associations together). Clearly we do not need . I propose to read in line 14, instead of [], [] . This requires, as Schmidt already saw, [ in line 15. At the end of line 14, the gap left by Rmondons excision of the editors relative pronoun, may be filled up by . The text would then read as follows:

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[] , [], [] [ ] 15 [] [ ] []Translating it we get: Aurelius Victor acknowledges the receipt of his salary on behalf of the two professional associations of dyers and tapistry weavers for the charge of tabularius which he performed and still performs. University of Cincinnati Peter van Minnen

Notes on Papyri P.Warren (= Pap.Lugd.Bat. 1)

Local Dutch tradition (transmitted only orally) has it that in 1935 a collection of 21 Greek, mostly documentary papyri was donated by an English collector, Mr. E.P. Warren, to a specially created Dutch scholarly foundation, The Leiden Papyrological Institute. The following note8 grew from a desire to learn more about this enigmatic figure who donated so liberally a set of ancient documents that was published in 1941 under the title The Warren Papyri. After all, his donation represented a substantial amount of money.9 Moreover, the author of this note was also struck by the observation that, though it might have been appropriate to give the full names of the new Maecenas, nowhere in the volume that bears his name are the benefactors initials resolved. So, who exactly was this Mr. E.P. Warren? In an attempt to obtain some quick information I searched (on January 13, 2010) on Google for Warren + papyri, which took me through Google Books to a reference that looked promising: The Warren Papyri: (P. Warren). By Edward Prioleau Warren, Arthur Surridge Hunt, Rijksuniversiteit te Leiden. Papyrologisch Instituut. This creates the impression that (1) the Warren papyri were edited by these two gentlemen and that (2) they themselves were once attached to the Papyrological Institute of the University of Leiden. Now, within this context it is illuminating to quote the opening of the editorial preface to the volume dated Leyden, May 20, 1941 and signed by M. David, B.A. van Groningen, and J.C. van Oven (p. ix): The 21 Greek papyri collected by the late E.P. Warren had been entrusted for publication to A.S. Hunt, who edited nine of them10 before his lamented death in 1934. Through the kind intercession of Mrs. A.S. Hunt, Dr. H.I. Bell, and Mr. T.C. Skeat, the collection was given to the Leyden Papyrological Institute by H. Asa Thomas Esq., its new owner. To all these persons we tender our sincere thanks. By no means, therefore, should one think that at some moment before his death A.S. Hunt was a member of the staff of the Leiden Papyrological Institute. That institution was created only in 1935, and on this matter the information Part of a paper about Milestones in the History of Papyrology in Leiden given on the 75th anniversary of the foundation of the Leiden Papyrological Institute, January 18, 2010. 9 For an idea of contemporary prices, see, e.g., E. von Scherlings sales catalogues Rotulus 3 (1933) and 4 (1937), available on the Internet under http://www.islamicmanuscripts.info/reference/index.html. 10 The nine texts edited by Hunt are nos. 1, 3, 5-10, and 21(note by K.A. Worp).8

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provided by Google Books is incorrect. Moreover, nowhere in the edition itself (dedicated [p. vii] To the Memory of E.P. Warren and A.S. Hunt) are the initials E.P. preceding the family name Warren resolved. Therefore, one may well wonder, why on Google Books these initials are resolved as Edward Prioleau (pronounced PRAY-low), and what more is known about this Edward Prioleau Warren. Here one can profit from other resources available on the Internet. A quick search for this set of names in the English Wikipedia provides the information that this man was an English archaeologist and architect who practised extensively in Oxford, no doubt helped by the fact that his brother, Sir Herbert Warren, was President of Magdalen College. During the First World War he was seconded to the Serbian Army, and afterwards designed the War Cemetery at Basra. In 1916, he is said to have had considerable experience of hospital construction. At the beginning of his career, he built and altered a number of churches, but he is known principally for domestic buildings in an understated revival of English late 17th century styles: his main works were lodgings for Oxford colleges and minor country houses. He died on 23 November 1937. Now there is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with a British architect/ archaeologists collecting papyri. This Mr. Edward Prioleau Warren, however, turns out to be certainly not the man who gave his name to the Warren papyri. For getting closer to that man, it is necessary to first find out what is known about Mr. H(arry) Asa Thomas Esq. Here, again, the Internet comes to the rescue: via a search for this name on Google one learns that he is mentioned several times as the beneficiary of the will of a certain Edward Perry Warren, and in fact the latter must be our man. The basic details of his life are set forth in an article in (again) the English Wikipedia which I quote while adding in footnotes some additional information collected by me from other sources:11 Edward Perry Warren (8 June 1860 28 December 1928), known as Ned Warren, was an American art collector, and a writer of works proposing an idealised view of homosexual relationships. He was one

For further biographical information the Wikipedia article itself refers to the article by D. Sox written for the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, available on the Internet through subscription. I have checked both versions and came to the conclusion that the basic facts provided by the (freely available) Wikipedia are not substantially different from the information provided by the DNB (for which one may be charged). The editor of BASP informs me that there is not a word about the papyri in D. Sox, Bachelors of Art: Edward Perry Warren & the Lewes House Brotherhood (London 1991).11

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Notes on Papyri of six children of a wealthy family12 of Boston, Massachusetts. He was educated at Harvard and later at New College, Oxford13 where he met John Marshall, with whom he formed a close and long-lasting relationship. The two set up house together at Lewes House, a large residence in Lewes, East Sussex14 where they became the centre of a circle of like-minded men interested in art and antiquities who ate together in a dining room overlooked by Lucas Cranachs Adam and Eve (now in the Courtauld Institute of Art). He spent much time on the Continent of Europe, collecting art works many of which he sold to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. His published works include A Defence of Uranian Love, which proposes a type of same-sex relationship similar to that prevalent in Classical Greece, in which an older man would act as guide as well as lover to younger men. He is perhaps best known today as the purchaser of the Roman silver drinking vessel known as the Warren Cup, which he did not attempt to sell during his lifetime, because of its explicit depiction of homoerotic scenes. It is now in the British Museum.15 He also commissioned a version of The Kiss from Auguste Rodin which he offered to the local council in Lewes as a gift it was rejected as too big and too nude, but is now in the Tate Gallery.16

Given Warrens family and educational background there is nothing start ling in his collecting Greek papyri. It is surprising, however, that it has taken so long to uncover the link between this American collector and the papyrus collection in the Netherlands that bears his name. Moreover, this investigation demonstrates (unsurprisingly) that not all bibliographical information provided by the Internet is reliable and that one should check and double-check. Leiden University K.A. Worp

12 Active as manufacturers of paper; see the website http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ S._D._Warren_Paper_Mill. 13 Where he was a student of the Classics. 14 Near Brighton on the South coast of England. For the history of the Lewes House, see the website http://www.lewes.gov.uk/business/15716.asp. 15 See the Wikipedia article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warren_Cup. 16 For this sculpture, see, e.g., the website http://www.sculpturexhibitions.com/archive/rodin/timeline.htm.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 241-253

Praising Isis in Demotic

Thomas Dousa University of Illinois

Review article of Holger Kockelmann, Praising the Goddess: A Comparative and Annotated Re-Edition of Six Demotic Hymns and Praises Addressed to Isis. Archiv fr Papyrusforschung, Beiheft 15. Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2008. 131 pages. ISBN 978-3-11021224-2.1 During the Hellenistic and Roman periods, worship of the goddess Isis served as a major point of intersection between the religious world of Egypt and that of Greece and Rome. It is thus unsurprising that classicists, Egyptologists, and historians of religion alike have long taken interest in examining the continuities and discontinuities between the image of Isis in Greco-Roman textual sources and her depiction in Egyptian materials. In tracing the Egyptian background of Greco-Roman depictions of Isis, scholars have traditionally tended to rely heavily on the formal cultic texts inscribed in hieroglyphic script on the walls of Ptolemaic- or Roman-period temples.2 In recent years, however, Egyptologists have begun to deploy a hitherto underutilized type of source texts inscribed in the Demotic script on papyrus, ostraca, or stone both to enrich their understanding of Isis place in the religious life of her Egyptian homeland during the later periods of its history and to enhance the documentary basis for comparing her Egyptian persona with depictions of the goddess in texts emanating from Greek and Roman milieus.3 The slender1 Abbreviations for Egyptological reference sources cited in the following review are: gPN = H. Ranke, Die gyptischen Personnennamen, 2 vols. (Glckstadt 19351952); DG = W. Erichsen, Demotisches Glossar (Copenhagen 1954); DNG = H. Gauthier, Dictionnaire des noms gographiques contenus dans les texts hiroglyphiques, 7 vols. (Cairo 1925-1931); VP = F. Daumas et al., Valeurs phontiques des signes hiroglyphiques dpoque grco-romaine, 4 vols. (Montpellier 1988-1995); Wb = A. Erman and H. Grapow, Wrterbuch der gyptischen Sprache, 7 vols. (Leipzig and Berlin 1926-1982). 2 See, e.g., J. Bergman, Ich bin Isis: Studien zum memphitischen Hintergrund der griechischen Isisaretalogien (Uppsala 1968); L.V. abkar, Hymns to Isis in Her Temple at Philae (Hanover and London 1988). 3 J. Ray, The Archive of H or (London 1976) 155-158; T.M. Dousa, Imagining Isis: On Some Continuities and Discontinuities in the Image of Greek Isis Hymns and Demotic

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volume under review, in which Holger Kockelmann (hereafter, K.) re-edits the six Demotic Isis hymns that have so far appeared in the literature, presents a detailed commentary on their contents, and provides a conspectus of Demotic theophoric personal names featuring the divine name Isis, is the first monographic publication devoted to analyzing the image of Isis as it is manifested in the Demotic hymnic tradition. The first part of the book comprises the re-edition of the six hymns (pp. 3-36, 1).4 Text 1 (P.Heid.Dem. 736; ed. pr. in W. Spiegelberg, Der demotische papyrus Heidelberg 736, ZS 53, 1918, 33-34 & Taf. VIII), which is of uncertain provenance (perhaps Gebelein?) and is dated on paleographic grounds to the 2nd century BC, is a hymn to Isis inscribed on the verso of a poorly preserved papyrus whose recto bears the remains of an apparently unrelated literary narrative written in a different hand; because of the fragmentary nature of the text, it is unclear whether the hymn was an independent composition intended for cultic use or whether it was embedded in a literary narrative (p. 41, n. 32). Text 2 (O. H or 10; ed. pr. in Ray, The Archive of H or, pp. 46-48 & pl. XI) is an ostracon uncovered in the sacred animal necropolis at north Saqqara and dating to year 12 of the reign of Ptolemy VI Philometor (169 BC); written for personal use by an ardent devotee of Isis and the god Thoth, this text contains a series of invocations to the goddess, perhaps for the purpose of inducing dreams or visions (pp. 11, 40). Texts 3-5 (G.Thebes 3156, 3462, & 3445, respectively; ed. pr. in R. Jasnow, Demotic graffiti from western Thebes, in H.J. Thissen & K.-Th. Zauzich, eds., Grammata Demotika: Festschrift fr Erich Lddeckens zum 15. Juni 1983 [Wrzburg 1984] 91-93, 97-105 & Taf. 15, 17-18, 21-22) are praises of Isis incised on faces of rock walls in the Valley of the Quarrymen in Western Thebes whose date of inscription falls within the Late Ptolemaic or Roman Period (pp. 2-3, with n. 9): although these graffiti clearly attest to the personal devotion of the persons who inscribed them, they reveal little about the circumstances in which they were written (p. 41).Texts, in K. Ryholt (ed.), Acts of the Seventh International Conference of Demotic Studies, Copenhagen, 23-27 August 1999 (Copenhagen 2002) 149-184; J.F. Quack, Ich bin Isis, die Herrin der beiden Lnder: Versuch zum demotischen Hintergrund der memphitischen Isisaretalogie, in S. Meyer (ed.), Egypt: Temple of the Whole World. Studies in Honour of Jan Assmann (Leiden 2003) 319-365. 4 K. characterizes the texts in question alternately as hymns, prayers, incantations, or praises (e.g., pp. 4, 84). This vacillation in terminology reflects certain classificatory difficulties in characterizing the texts in question, which cannot be addressed here. For the purposes of this review, I follow K. in defining the term hymn broadly as a text in which a god is worshipped and praised (M. Depauw, A Companion to Demotic studies [Brussels 1997] 94) and so will refer to all the texts that K. edits as hymns.

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Finally, Text 6 (P.Tebt.Tait 14, ed. pr. in Tait, Papyri from Tebtunis in Egyptian and Greek [London 1977] 48-52 & pl. 4), which emanates from Tebtynis and can be assigned on paleographical grounds to the 2nd century AD, contains a hymn to the goddess, part of which takes the form of a litany comparable to that of P.Oxy. 11.1380: evidence from a yet unpublished parallel text (P.Carlsb. 622 verso) suggests that it may have originally formed part of a literary composition (pp. 31 & 41, n. 34). Needless to say, these six hymns do not exhaust the range of Demotic textual materials, be it literary or documentary, in which information about Isis appears: in terms of genre, however, they do form a coherent if not uniform group and are the closest known Demotic analogues to Greek and Latin Isiac hymns. K.s decision to present these texts together in a single edition is fully justified, for it presents a compendious overview of the extant Demotic hymnic tradition pertaining to Isis and so facilitates the comparison of the Demotic Isis hymns with their Egyptian and Greco-Roman counterparts. With the exceptions of Texts 2 and 4, the exemplars of the hymns studied by K. are poorly preserved, with large sections of text lost or damaged to the point of (near) illegibility; they are thus singularly difficult texts to edit. K.s editorial treatment of them is generally satisfactory. For each text, he provides technical details about its material support, a hand-copy, a transliteration, a translation, and textual notes that discuss problematic readings, justify readings deviating from those of the original editors, and explicate points of grammatical and lexical interest affecting the translation. Of the hand-copies, those for Texts 3-5 have been taken over from the editio princeps, while those for Texts 1, 2, and 6 stem from K. himself (p. 4 with n. 18): comparison of the latter, which constitute the first published hand-copies of the texts in question, with photographs reveals them to be generally trustworthy representations of the original texts. The transliteration and translation are given in two parallel columns a well-chosen format that permits the reader to compare them with ease. Given the parlous condition of Texts 1, 3, 5, and 6, it is commendable that the transliterations carefully distinguish between certain, undamaged but uncertain, and damaged and uncertain readings: however, one misses indications of the size of the many lacunae that riddle these texts, the inclusion of which would aid the reader in determining how much space there is for restoration. The textual notes, which are keyed to lines rather than to individual words, serve primarily to justify K.s understanding of the text and a reading of them reveals a laudable effort, on his part, both to engage in earnest with the editiones principes and to collect and incorporate into his readings a number of Verbesserungsvorschlge that have appeared in various places in the specialist literature. At some points, however, one wishes that philological issues had

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been considered in greater depth than is the case. To give but one example, the treatment of the expression t w to set free in the textual note to Text 2.19 is limited to the citation of a recent discussion of the passage in question: no explanation is given of how the English translation reflects the semantics of the Demotic lexemes (p. 17). Here, statement of the fact that t w derives from the earlier Egyptian rd.t w3.t to make free the way (lit., give the way) (Wb 1:247/12), with w being an unetymological writing for the archaic word w3.t,5 would have greatly increased the informational content of the note without requiring more than the addition of a sentence or two. In other cases, one wishes that the commentary had addressed features of the text that have gone entirely uncommented; for example, identification of the short vertical strokes at the end of Text 2.6 & 12 as space fillers would explain their absence from the transliteration and so would have been an appropriate subject for discussion in a textual note.6 Although the textual commentary is not as comprehensive as it could have been, it is, in general, sufficient for the purpose of providing arguments to support K.s transliterations and translations. One question in evaluating the re-edition of a text is whether it significantly advances our understanding of that text over earlier editions. In this case, one may answer in the affirmative, for K.s edition introduces a number of improved readings and restorations of damaged text as well as reconsiderations of the general structure of several of the texts. Many of the rereadings and restorations have been culled from discussions of the texts in question in the secondary literature: the influence of M. Smith and J.F. Quack, both of whom have dealt with certain aspects of these texts, is especially evident in the textual notes. Nevertheless, K. does exhibit independence of judgment in assessing his predecessors readings (see, e.g., pp. 16, textual note to Text 2.9-10; 17, textual note to Text 2.12) and contributes convincing rereadings and textual restorations of his own (see, e.g., pp. 24, textual commentary to Text 3.24; 36, textual commentary to Text 6.x+10). Especially noteworthy is the reinterpretation of the general structure of Texts 1, 2, and 3 (pp. 11 & 16, commentary to line 9 [Text 2]; 18 [Text 3], and, implicitly, 9, commentary to line x+4 [Text 1]): in the cases of Texts 2 and 3, this yields a substantially clearer textual structure than had been posited in the original edition. In general, K.s transliterations and translations creditably reflect the underlying original texts. Given the difficult and often fragmentary nature of the texts in question, it is understandable that there is considerable scope for disagreement on matters of philological detail; See F. Hoffmann, Die Lesung des demotischen Wortes fr Gtterbarke, Enchoria 23 (1996) 41-42. 6 Such space-fillers occur elsewhere in the archive of H or; see, e.g., O.H or 3.24; 8.3, 12, 15, and v.3; 9.3 and v.6.5

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at the end of this review, I offer some suggestions for alternative interpretations of specific passages. Following the editions of the texts themselves comes a second, extensive section designated as a General and Comparative Study of the Demotic Hymns and Praises to Isis, which constitutes, in effect, an extended commentary on the formal and thematic content of the hymns (pp. 37-71). K.s aim in this section is threefold: (1) to sketch out the formal textual features of the Demotic Isis hymns, (2) to analyze the depiction of the goddess in these hymns with an eye to determining which features of her divine persona are especially prominent, and (3) to compare the image of Isis in the Demotic hymns with the delineation of the goddesss features in Greco-Roman hymns (p. 37). The commentary opens with a survey of evidence for the Egyptian practice of directing personal invocations to Isis, which typically took the form of prayers requesting some sort of help from the goddess (pp. 38-40, 2). After briefly outlining what little can be said about the particular historical contexts in which the six hymns were inscribed and discussing the form of the name Isis in them (pp. 40-42, 3-4), K. turns to a discussion of their stylistic features (pp. 42-44, 5). The hymns can, broadly speaking, be divided into those that address Isis directly in the second person (Texts 1, 2, 3) and those that refer to her in the third person (Texts, 4, 5, 6). All of the hymns addressing Isis make use of the formula m ny Come to me! for which K. adduces numerous parallels from earlier Egyptian, as well as contemporary Demotic and Greco-Egyptian sources (where it appears as ); the texts referring to Isis in the third person are less uniform in their textual formulation, but at least two of them (Texts 4, 6) contain the admonition c (n) 3s.t Call to Isis! A stylistic feature that crosscuts both types of hymn is the anaphoric use of repeated formulaic clauses (Texts 1, 2, 3, 6). After addressing stylistic elements, K. temporarily broadens the scope of the commentary to discuss the different kinds of hymnic texts Egyptian temple texts and Greek and Latin Isis hymns against which the image of Isis in the Demotic hymns can be compared (p. 44-49, 6): this includes a useful, if not entirely complete, list of the Greek Isis hymns.7 Next comes an extensive listing and discussion of the attributes of Isis as expressed by the epithets accorded her in the Demotic hymns, which forms the very heart of the commentary (pp. 48-70, 7-33). K. classifies the epithets into (1) general titles such as great goddess, mistress, gods mother, and the noble one (t3 py.t) (pp. 49-51, 7-10); (2) titles portraying Isis as a divine ruler of Egypt and,Some addenda et corrigenda to this list are given in L. Bricaults review of this book published in BMCR 2009.04.21 (http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2009/2009-04-21. html; retrieved April 26, 2009).7

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more generally, the cosmos (pp. 52-59, 11-20); (3) those presenting Isis as a beneficent savior goddess (pp. 59-66, 21-24); (4) those depicting Isis as having disposition over human fate and fortune (pp. 66-68, 25-26); and (5) miscellaneous titles that do not fit any of the previous categories (pp. 68-70, 27-33).8 The task of classification is never an easy one and not all will agree with K.s assignment of individual epithets to these categories. For example, given the close connection between the epithet t3 py.t and the concept of good fortune (p. 51, 10), one may well wonder if this title should not have been placed among the titles describing Isis as a goddess of fate rather than among the general epithets;9 by the same token, it might have been more meaningful to assign titles of Isis belauding her capacity to ordain a burial for her followers to the section on Isis as benefactor, savior, and divine protector (p. 69, 29) rather than to the more nebulous realm of miscellaneous epithets.10 Such classificatory quibbles, however, should not obscure the fact that K.s discussion of the attributes of Isis is richly documented and adduces a wealth of comparative evidence from other Demotic, hieroglyphic, and Greek sources. The key finding that emerges from his numeration raisonne of Isis attributes is that8 It is interesting to compare K.s categories with those used by Ray in his classification of the epithets of Isis found in texts from the archive of H or: (a) Titles emphasizing her greatness, (b) Isis as a royal goddess, (c) Isis as mother and lover, (d) Isis and the worshipper, (e) Isis and other gods, (f) Cult-places of Isis (Ray, Archive of H or, 155-158). Rays group (a) can be mapped to K.s general titles; group (b), to K.s titles of Isis as divine ruler of Egypt and the cosmos; group (d), to K.s titles depicting Isis as a savior goddess as well as those portraying her as a goddess of fate; and groups (e) and (f), to K.s miscellaneous category. Rays group (c) consists of two epithets, gods mother (mw.t-ntr) and lady of love (nb.t mr.t), which K., on the other hand, distributes between general titles (gods mother) and the miscellaneous category (lady of love). 9 On t3 py.t as the Demotic correlate to see Dousa, Imagining Isis, 178-179: note that, in his classification, Ray had associated this epithet to that of fate (p3 3y) (Ray, Archive of H or, 157, (d) 14). To his credit, K. does acknowledge the connection between the two concepts, providing a cross-reference to Isis as t3 py.t in the paragraph dealing with Isis as goddess of fate (p. 67, 26): however, there is no reciprocal cross-reference from the paragraph on Isis as t3 py.t to the paragraph on Isis as goddess of fate (p. 51, 10). 10 Generally speaking, if one is constructing a classification, it is best to avoid a miscellaneous category; if this proves impossible, one should seek to assign to it as few of the entities being classified as possible. K.s miscellaneous category, which is divided into six subsections, could have been considerably smaller than is the case: the epithets lady of love (nb.t mr.t) and praised one/lady of praise (t3 h s.t/nb.t h s.t), which are not unique to Isis alone, could easily have been placed under general titles; likewise, his discussion of h n3(.t), an unetymological writing of the h nw.t mistress, should have been joined to the discussion of the latter under the rubric of general titles.

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[t]he two aspects of Isis that dominate the demotic hymns and praises as a group are clearly [her] role as a queen and universal deity and her function as a divine saviour (p. 71). Furthermore, K. concludes, the attributes of Isis in the Demotic hymns find numerous parallels in Greek hymns to her: such similarities, in his view, are most likely the result of intercultural transfer, but may, in some cases, be the product of convergence rather than continuity (pp. 46-47, 71, n. 1). The third section of the book is devoted to uncovering the image of Isis that emerges from compilation and categorization of theophoric personal names in which Isis is the theophoric element (pp. 72-81, 35-46). The idea of carrying out such an investigation is a thoroughly good one, for onomastic evidence is a rich and often overlooked source of information about how the ancient Egyptians envisaged their gods. Drawing his material from standard repertories such as H. Rankes Die gyptischen Personennamen, the supplements thereto published by M. Thirion in the Revue dgyptologie, and the Demotisches Namenbuch, K. offers a classification of Isiac names by thematic content; his categories are names containing general epithets, names in which Isis appears as a powerful savior goddess, names that present her as a beneficent goddess, names expressing personal affection and devotion to Isis, names depicting her as a goddess of rejuvenation, names associating Isis with the north wind, names that portray here as the patron of the king, names expressing the pre-eminence of Isis, names referring to mythological events involving Isis, names alluding to festivities of Isis, and finally, nonclassified personal names.11 Although K.s collection and classification of Isisbased names has the character of a preliminary sketch rather than a full-blown11 Inspection of the section on non-classified personal names (p. 81, 45), which enumerates, without any discussion, a series of names of rather heterogeneous content in alphabetical order, suggests that analysis could have been pushed much further than K. has done. For example, the name P3yf-t3w(-m)-c.wy-3s.t His-breath-is-inthe-hands-of-Isis belongs to a class of names that, according to Ranke, express the dependence of the name-bearer on the god mentioned in the name and is related to the lordship of the god (gPN 2:225-226), while the names Dd-3s.t Isis-said and Dd-3s.t-wf/s-cnh Isis-said:-He/she-shall-live are built on a pattern generally understood to refer to the favorable decree given by the goddess to the expectant mother before the birth of a child (H. Ranke, Zur Namengebung der gypter, OLZ 29, 1926, 734-735; J. Quaegebeur, Considrations sur le nom propre gyptien Tephthaphnukhos, OLP 4, 1973, 86): such names could either have been discussed within the sections on Isis as a powerful savior goddess (pp. 75-76, 36) or classed together separately as names expressing the goddesss sovereignty over the lives of her followers. Similarly, the name 3s.t-y.t Isis-has-come could have been discussed in the section on Isis as a savior goddess, if K. had taken into account Rankes plausible suggestion that this

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study, it is sufficient to show that there are numerous points of thematic overlap between the image of Isis reflected in personal names and that derived from the attributes accorded to her in the Demotic hymns. It also permits him to draw some preliminary conclusions about the thematic foci of theophoric names featuring Isis: like the Demotic hymns, they tend to concentrate on the goddesss aspect as a savior and beneficent deity and, unsurprisingly, they tend to focus on the personal relation between Isis and the name bearer (p. 81). Rounding out the book are an appendix, indices, and bibliography. The appendix consists of a list of deities who are addressed in Demotic hymns and hymn-like compositions, invocations, praises and prayers (pp. 83-88, 47-62). Under the name of each deity, K. lists all pertinent Demotic hymn texts, be they published or unpublished, of which he is aware, briefly describes the texts, and provides relevant bibliographical information: this section will be a valuable resource for readers desirous of a rapid overview of currently known Demotic hymns. The indices, of which there are no less than sixteen (pp. 89-106), are admirably detailed and, to judge by a few random soundings, accurate: one only wishes that Index p, which lists texts and editions, had been designed to distinguish between Egyptian-, Greek-, and Latin-language texts. The bibliography (pp. 107-131) limits itself to sources cited by K. and provides a helpful key to the abbreviated references that occur in the body of the text.12name belongs to a class of names referring to a gods coming to help the name-bearer (gPN 2:222). In some cases, however, the existence of multiple interpretative possibilities makes it genuinely difficult to categorize a name under a single rubric. For example, the name 3s.t-rh-s can be understood either as meaning (1) Isis-knows-him/her (i.e., the namebearer) or as Isis-is-wise (lit. Isis-knows-it) (cf. W. Spiegelberg, Demotische Kleinigkeiten: 6. Der Name , ZS 54, 1918, 124): the former interpretation takes the name to express a personal relationship between god and name-bearer, while the latter, which is the one followed by K., would construe it as celebrating the knowledge and wisdom of Isis. Given the uncertainties hedging the interpretation of this name, K. is probably justified in assigning it to the category of non-classified names; it is unfortunate, however, that he does not discuss why the name is not easily classifiable or mention the alternate interpretation. 12 One abbreviation that does not appear in the bibliography is the use of M to refer to the text of an Isis aretalogy attested in both epigraphic (i.e., inscriptions from Kyme, Saloniki, & Ios) and literary (i.e., Diod. Sic. 1.27) sources. It is true that in the list of Greek Isis hymns given in the general commentary, K. explains the use of this siglum, which stands for M(emphite version) and refers to the putative Memphite origin of the text (p. 47): however, this explanation is hidden within a prose passage and so not easily accessible to the casual reader. Since other abbreviations are explained

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Viewed as a whole, K. s book is a solid and worthwhile contribution to the literature on Isis. This is not to say that it is without limitations, both in substance and style. With regard to substance, its treatment of the image of Isis is confined largely to discussion of those attributes of the goddess that are thematized in the six Demotic hymns edited in the first part of the book. This means that important dimensions of Isis persona that are not touched upon in the hymns but are found in other Demotic sources e.g., her prominent role in mortuary cult and its attendant mythology, her political-theological function as the divine patron of Ptolemaic and Roman rulers within Egypt, and her time-honored role as a potent divine magician are treated only in passing or not at all in the commentary. Thus, the reader gets only a partial picture of Isis image in Demotic texts and he or she will have to go elsewhere to get a fuller sense of the wide range of contexts in which Isis appears within Demotic texts.13 As for the style of analysis and writing, both are best described as workmanlike and somewhat tentative in tone;14 in reading through the commentary, one often gets the impression that K. is more comfortable with the task of compilation than that of interpretation. Such limitations, however, should not overshadow the merits of the book. K. has put together a convenient and up-to-date synoptic edition of Demotic hymns to Isis previously scattered across different publications, compiled an extensive and well-documented profile of the image of Isis in these texts, and drawn interesting comparisons of this image with that reflected in the onomastic traditions of Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt. This book may not offer the final word on these subjects,15 but it certainly provides

in the bibliography, it would have been consistent to indicate the meaning of the abbreviation there as well. 13 A good impression of the range of contexts may be gained by consulting the entry 3s.t Isis in the 3 file of the Chicago Demotic Dictionary (http://oi.chicago.edu/pdf/ CDD_3.pdf, Version 2.1, pp. 68-80; retrieved 27 April, 2009). 14 In fairness to K., it should be pointed out that he has written this book in a language that is not his native tongue and this may well explain, in part, the tentativeness in tone. I hasten to add that, although, over the course of the book, one finds occasional cases of linguistic interference (e.g., Diodorus and Herodotus appear throughout as Diodor and Herodot, while eventually is used in the sense of German eventuell [cf. p. 67, third line from top]) and comes across passages that could have been formulated with greater precision, K.s writing is, on the whole, commendably clear. 15 As K. indicates, there are at least two yet unpublished Demotic hymns to Isis: P.Vienna D6297+6329+10101 and P.Carlsberg 652 verso (pp. 2, n. 7 and 86, 54). His brief descriptions of these texts lead me to believe that, once they are published, the general picture of Demotic Isis hymns presented in the volume under review will require some revision.

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a valuable Zwischenbilanz that will be of great utility to all scholars interested in Isis and her place in late Egyptian religion. In closing this review, I append a few corrigenda et addenda in the hope that they will further the interpretation of the texts that K. has re-edited and enhance the utility of the volume for its readers. Text 1.x+6: .rw tbh mtwt .rw tbh [s] mtwt. There is enough space in the lacuna between tbh and mtw to restore both the determinative of tbh and the pleonastic suffix pronoun s; for the construction, see DG 624, s.v. tbh . A literal translation of the clause would read: From you do they beseech it. In context, K.s They implore you is an acceptable paraphrase, although it does not reflect the second tense form of the verb. Text 1.x+7: K.s translation of hc t as you appear requires modification, since, in Demotic, there are forms of the sdmf that express indicative past tense (past sdmf) or modal future tense (prospective sdmf) but none with the exception of adjective-verbs that express present tense; see J.H. Johnson, The Demotic Verbal System (Chicago 1976) 178, 188, 218, 270, 277, 279; R.S. Simpson, Demotic Grammar in the Ptolemaic Sacerdotal Decrees (Oxford 1996) 98, 111-112, & 120-122. Here, hc t is best understood as an independent prospective sdmf in optative use: Com[e to me, Isis, like (to) the stars]: may you appear as Sothis among them! K.s interpretation of the word that he reads as P3- Iqr(?) and Spiegelberg had read as P3-pr(?) as an otherwise unattested geographical name is highly doubtful, for it lacks any sign of the geographical determinative that routinely occurs at the end of toponyms. I propose rereading the word in question as p3 tn the ground, with the sign read by K. and Spiegelberg as final -r functioning as a determinative (cf. DG 47, s.v. tn, rightmost example in the first line under Ptolemaic writings). If this rereading is correct, then *n3.w p3 tn those of the ground might be a poetic expression for terrestrial creatures (i.e., plants or animals). Text 2.2: In his note to this line on pp. 14-15, K. expresses uncertainty regarding the Isiac title h n3(.t) mistress (cf. p. 70, 33), transliterating it as h n3(?). Comparison of the first two signs in the writing of this epithet with or 22.6; 31B.6; and those used to write the verb h n to command/entrust at O.H 59.15 should remove any doubts as to the correctness of the reading h n3(.t), which was first proposed by K.-Th. Zauzich, review of J. Ray, The Archive of or, Enchoria 8.2 (1978) 98: the question-marks in the transliteration of this H term can be eliminated. Text 2.6-7: (n)-tr.ty rm p3yt w<t>y tr.ty tp(?) p3yt w<t>y(?). K.s reading requires two adjustments. First, the initial word of this difficult clause is best read not as a preposition meaning in the presence of(?) an otherwise

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unattested semantic extension of a compound preposition meaning literally in/by the hand of (DG 645-647) but simply as the noun tr.t hand; see, already, J.F. Quack, Zu einer angeblich apokalyptischen Passage in den Ostraka des Hor, in A. Blasius and B.U. Schipper (eds.), Apokalyptik und gypten. Eine kritische Analyse der relevanten Texte aus dem griechisch-rmischen gypten (Leuven 2002) 245. Second, the graphic form of the preposition following tr.ty does not resemble that of the preposition rm with (cf. the writings in DG or 18.v. 39, s.v. rm): rather, it is identical to the writing of a word found in O.H 6-7 that Ray read, with some hesitation, as a derived form of the preposition tp or, 67, n. d and 68, n. n).16 Thus, the clause in quesupon (Ray, Archive of H tion is best translated as My hand is upon(?) your progenitor(?) If one keeps or was intimately involved in the burial of sacred ibises, which in mind that H were considered to be manifestations of the god Thoth, and that, in Memphite tradition, Thoth was deemed to be the father of Isis, a possible interpretation of this enigmatic clause is that H or is claiming to be involved in protecting (i.e., keeping a hand upon) the progenitor of Isis (i.e., Thoth) by his piety toward the sacred birds. However, this is far from certain and, given the lexical problems that remain, it is best not to press this interpretation too far. Text 2.14: The word read as the augens h ck yourself is perhaps better read as the locative adverb ty here; cf. DG 604, s.v. t3y (ty), leftmost writing in the second row under Ptolemaic writings. Text 2.15: In the translation of ssw cnh, living days > days of life. Text 2.16: pr-c3.t c.w.s.t pr-c3.t both here and at Text 3.14: In the Demotic script, the honorific phrase c.w.s. forms part of the writing of pr-c3 and pr-c3.t and so is generally not transliterated. With regard to the epithet t3 pr-c3.t n tm(?) nb the queen of all en or 3.v.6; 6.v.x+9, K. rightly observes that tirety(?), which also recurs in O.H surely a phrase such as entirety, the whole world, all lands is required after Pr-c3.t queen (p. 17, commentary to l. 16). However, the reading tm(?) entirety, which he has taken over from Ray, is problematic for paleographic and semantic reasons outlined in Dousa, Imagining Isis, 162, n. 50 (1). A solution to the crux is to read the three signs in the form of an inverse s that comprise the questionable word not as Demotic, but as hieratic characters, representing the hieratic analogues to the hieroglyphs either for the tongue of land (Gardiner Sign-list N 21) or the irrigation canal (Gardiner Sign-list N23).16 One could also contemplate reading it as the preposition h r on (cf. DG, 319-320, esp. the leftmost writing in the second row under Ptolemaic writings), but Hors writing of h r ends with two short strokes, one written above the other, rather than with a or 8.12, 17, 22, and v.3; 9.v.4; single long vertical one; cf., e.g., the writings of h r in O.H 13.9, 11; 21.8.

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For the hieroglyphic signs in question, see A.H. Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, 3rd ed. (Oxford 1957) 488; for their hieratic forms, see G. Mller, Hieratische Palographie 3 (Leipzig 1912) 30, no. 324 (irrigation canal) and 29, nos. 318 and 318bis (tongue of land, in the lower quadrant of the groups). There are two possible readings for the signs in question: (1) db.w lands (lit. fields abutting riparian land) (Wb 1:153/8-9; DNG 1:126-127; VP 2:452, no. 339 and 453, nos. 345-347) or (2) t3.w lands (Wb 5:216/1, s.v. t3.wy; DNG 6:1; VP or, 2:452, no. 339 and 453, no. 349). The fact that, elsewhere in the archive of H almost identical signs are used to write the element -t3.wy in hieratic writings of the toponym cnh-t3.wy (O.H or 18.1* and v.7; 23.6), inclines me to favor the interpretation t3.w and to read the epithet as a whole, t3 pr-c3.t n t3.w nb the queen of all lands.17 Text 3.21-22: K. translates the verb sequence w3h n r rnp.t 3 bt 6 h tpn t p3 hrw r-h ry as We have spent three years and two months ... We have rested (there) since the day mentioned above. Translation with the English present perfect tense is appropriate to the perfect form w3h n ir (cf. Johnson, Demotic Verbal System, 203-205), but it is not appropriate for h tpn, which is a sdmf form and so, for reasons outlined in the note to Text 1.x+7, can only be translated as a past indicative or future modal tense. In the context of this passage, h tpn is best understood as an independent prospective sdmf in optative use and so the passage is best translated as: We have spent three years and two months May we be at rest from today onwards ! Text 6.x+1 & x+2: In light of considerations presented in the notes to Text 1.x+7, and Text 3.21-22, the translation of the clause ns tn with the present tense and she brings you is grammatically inappropriate. The verb form ns is best interpreted as a dependent prospective sdmf in a clause of purpose (Johnson, Demotic Verbal System, 279-280): (Call to Isis) that she might bring you Text 6.x+4: At the beginning of this line, K. restores who brings the] in his translation but omits the restoration in the transliteration, to which one should add the following: t3 nt n t3]. Text 6.x+5: Whereas K. had translated the imperative clause c (n) 3s.t as Invoke Isis at x+3, he translates it as pray to Isis here and at x+1. Given the refrain-like use of c (n) 3s.t throughout the first part of this hymn, it would be appropriate to translate it with a single English expression throughout the17 or 3.v.6; 6.v.x+9 are written with Note that the versions of the same title at O.H an apparent dual form t3.wy rather than plural t3.w. This variation in form does not betoken a change in meaning but rather reflects a general tendency among late period scribes to interchange plural and dual forms of the word t3; cf. Quack, Ich bin Isis, die Herrin der beiden Lnder, 340.

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text. Since the root meaning of the verb c is to call out (DG 71), I believe that the translation call to or invoke is preferable to pray. The same applies to Text 4 (p. 26), where K. translates c variably as call (l. 1) and pray (l. 4). p. 60, n. 220: As regards the translation of M 44, I am the one who is in the rays of the sun I am in the rays of the sun. p. 75, text to n. 34: The translation of the anthroponym Nht-3s.t-rw should be altered from May-Isis-convict-them to May-Isis-be-strongagainst-them. p. 81, n. 102: Add the variant form 3st-rh-s(w) (gPN 1:4, 9). p. 87, 59: To the bibliography on O.H or 18, add the following references: M. Smith, Lexicographical notes on Demotic texts, in F. Junge (ed.), Studien zu Sprache und Religion gyptens, Band I: Sprache (Gttingen 1984) 391, n. 33; J.F. Quack, Kontinuitt und Wandel in der sptgyptischen Religion, Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 15 (1998) 84, with nn. 48-49; idem, Zu einer angeblich apokalyptischen Passage in den Ostraka des Hor, 247-248.

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 267-273

ReviewsWilly Clarysse and Dorothy J. Thompson, Counting the People in Hellenistic Egypt. Volume 1: Population Registers (P.Count). Volume 2: Historical Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. xxvi + 694 pages + 5 plates; xxii + 395 pages. The volumes reviewed here follow the standard practice in papyrology of collecting the known (or in this case most of the known) documents that concern a particular institution or type of document.1 Many of the texts have been previously published, others are presented for the first time, but what makes these two volumes of the highest importance to Ptolemaic papyrology and history is the fact that the authors have identified a variety of document types all relating to the process of the census and have thoroughly discussed the historical implications. Many improvements to reading and interpretations are offered in these volumes, and some new texts are presented. Some of them (e.g. Text 8) from the village of Mouchis (cf. the comments by the editors, 1:235) may be related to several other collections, including Stanford. There are many fascinating details in these papyri that can hardly be summarized here. Suffice it to say that Volume 1, presenting 44 Greek and ten demotic Egyptian papyri, is one of the most significant volumes of Ptolemaic papyri to be published in decades. The texts are extremely well edited and presented in a user-friendly format, with Greek or demotic transcription on the left hand side and translations on the right. Most of the texts also receive healthy commentary. Five photographs are provided but these are more for the purposes of providing an impression of the layout of some of the texts. Fortunately, very high quality digital images can be viewed by following the URL links provided at the beginning of each edition. The texts hardly present a uniform Ptolemaic system, and that is an important observation. The local nature of the Ptolemaic census, shown by the two languages used, and in the variety of vocabulary and administrative practice deployed, reveals an important aspect of Ptolemaic state building, viz. that it was established on many local traditions. As is becoming increasingly clear, there were both environmental and historical limitations to Ptolemaic centralization.21 2

268 Reviews The census documents, like Ptolemaic documentation of state institutions generally, are biased toward the Fayyum and to the mid-third century BCE (fully 29 of the 54 texts published here date to between 254 and 231 BCE), a place and a period of time in which the Ptolemaic state was at its strongest. It is unfortunate indeed that, like Alexandria itself, the later Ptolemaic census and its performance is lost to us. Unlike the usual social model, following Polybius Mediterranean view of the Ptolemies, that posits overall Ptolemaic decline, the administrative documents in the second and first centuries BCE often reveal an effective bureaucracy in spite of political problems in the capital. One would very much like to know more about the frequency and the effectiveness of the later Ptolemaic census, as well as how it was connected to other aspects of the administration. That the census continued into the second century is proven by five texts in the volume, Texts 50-54, but we should very much also like to know more about how the census in Upper Egypt was organized. The documents are of extraordinary value not only for administrative developments but also for more mundane but no less important aspects of society such as the structure of households, the use of status titles, administrative terminology, the relationship of Greek to demotic terms, and naming practices. Occasionally a close reading of a text will reward the patient reader with a new word such as crockery salesman (Text 3.82), or an unusual phrase like carriers of salt, if the demotic groups are resolved correctly (Dem. n3 gwr h m3; 1:60-61, 63). For the latter, the editors are justifiably cautious in drawing conclusions about the function of such persons but one cannot help but at least try to connect these men, again if the reading is correct, with the importance of salt and to the salt tax. Was the revenue from the tax, nominal but pervasive, used to fund the production and distribution of salt? Other status titles that occur in these texts, such as the well-known men of Aswan/Philae for example (1:88-90), have often been discussed. My (JGM) own view of these men is that they were settled in the Fayyum and, as elsewhere, had some sort of military or quasi-military function (having to do with desert trade?). But we need not exclude the possibility that ethnicity was also implied by such titles, ethnicity and occupation often being associated in Egypt. In such cases we are reminded that Ptolemaic categorization for the purpose of counting people (and animals) simplified what were in fact quite rich and complex social realities. Many persons must have moved between several occupational statuses, the Ptolemaic bureaucracy, and local village institutions such as the temple. We would miss much were we only to have the census records. A good example is illustrated by the reference to the Hauswaldt papyri (Berlin) (1:89) where a man is given the status title herdsman [generally referring to cattle, as against the editors shepherd here, cf.

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1:80], servant of Horus of Edfu, [and] counted among the men of Philae. Here we have in one person two functional titles, one conveying economic status within a major temple in the south and the other, in my view, a military status, perhaps associated with eastern desert traffic that came through Edfu. Although in this specific case (P.Hausw. 16, Edfu, 221-204 BCE) the man did have an Egyptian name, he may well have been of Nubian descent, as others in the Hauswaldt papyri. The census documents must be read alongside other texts to get a fuller sense of the complexities involved. In the census returns such men were counted among the Greeks (presumably because of their official function) but in certain cases had Egyptian names even though they may have been (in some cases) ethnically Nubian.3 The editors and their collaborators are to be heartily congratulated for producing this volume of texts that will no doubt form the basis of much future work. As it stands, the volume serves as marvelous testimony to what can be achieved through the joint efforts of two superb scholars. The same is true of the second volume that offers nearly 400 pages of historical studies based on these and related texts. Following a brief overview in the opening chapter, the second chapter seeks to shed light on the censuses to which we owe these documents. Although procedures remain unknown, it is clear that the total adult population was counted, and that the original household declarations also included children. Ptolemaic population counts continued earlier practices of personal registration but differed from them in their extensive use of written records. Unlike in the Roman period, there is no evidence of regular census intervals. Chapter 3, one of the most substantial parts of the volume, deals with the salt tax, which prompted the compilation of the population registers. Known from Ptolemy II onward and, in Clarysse and Thompsons view, introduced by him in order to fund military activity , it was effectively a capitation charge for adult men and women, in contrast to the previous yoke tax and subsequent Roman poll tax, both of which were restricted to males. Levied in cash a Ptolemaic innovation in Egypts fiscal regime , the rates of the tax gradually diminished in the course of the third century BCE. Exemptions proliferated over time: together with lower rates, this rapidly reduced the revenue claimed by the authorities. Does this erosion reflect the states weakness in the face of resistance to a novel tax? (It remains unclear why extant receipts cease in 219 BCE, given that the charge itself did not.) Clarysse and Thompsons discussion of tax collection further points to discrepancies between fiscal claims and Many of the ethnic designations occurring in the census records are now usefully collected and discussed by J.K. Winnicki, Late Egypt and Her Neighbors: Foreign Population in Egypt in the First Millennium BC (Warsaw 2009).3

270 Reviews actual intake. While documents from the Themistos meris imply high levels of compliance, equivalent information from the Herakleides meris suggests a much poorer performance, raising the question whether the former results can be taken at face value. This comparison highlights the dangers of relying on single data sets as putatively representative samples. Chapter 4 surveys settlement in the Ptolemaic Fayyum. Clarysse and Thompson plausibly argue for a regional population of 85-95,000 in the 250s230s BCE but rightly warn against extrapolation from the Fayyum to Egypt as a whole. Most of this chapter is taken up by detailed consideration of the administrative topography, such as villages and hamlets (where Fig. 4.1 reveals something akin to a rank-size distribution of village sizes) and tax districts. In Chapter 5, the second-most substantial chapter, Clarysse and Thompson turn their attention to the people counted. Their discussion focuses on differences in fiscal liabilities and on the status and role of different groups. Hellenes were granted a small and largely symbolic tax exemption (from the obol tax), as were the far less numerous Persians and Arabs. The documented share of Hellenes varies from 6 to 42 per cent in different villages, accounting for one-sixth of the adult civilian Arsinoite population overall. This category merged immigrants with members of other ethnic groups who were considered Hellenic for tax purposes only; ethnic and fiscal distinctions did not neatly match. Cleruchic settlements are found to have been unevenly distributed across the Fayyum. Clarysse and Thompson note that if 1,400 serving and cleruchic cavalry can be located in that nome, they must have accounted for a large share of the entire Ptolemaic cavalry forces. Even more remarkably, perhaps as much as one-third of the adult population of the Fayyum appears to have been made up of immigrants, reclassified indigenes, or military personnel. This strong presence of privileged groups further underlines the exceptional status of the region. The attested strength of members of the police (phylakitai and ephodoi, and their Demotic equivalents) is likewise striking, accounting as they do for one in thirty adults in the Fayyum. If all these various guardians had been on active duty, at some 2.2 percent of the total population Ptolemaic police would have been far more numerous in per capita terms than in modern states. However, given that in many cases (presumably for all women cf. 1:145 but possibly also for some of the men) this is best understood as a designation of status rather than of service, it is difficult to derive even the actual strength of the internal security forces from these statistics. The non-agrarian population is overrepresented in the registers; yet even if all missing persons in two well-documented districts were assumed to be farmers, they would not have accounted for more than 60 to 70 percent of the total, in line with their share of 63 percent in the Egyptian census of 1897.

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Then again, differently designated individuals may well have contributed to overall food production. As Chapter 6 shows, livestock was likewise subject to the salt tax and other charges. Clarysse and Thompson argue that stock-rearing may have expanded in response to Alexandrian demand; pigs in particular may have increased in number. The longest chapter, Chapter 7, is devoted to demographic matters. Recording 1,271 adult members of 427 households, mostly from the Fayyum, the registers are a valuable source for population history. Whilst falling short of the standards later set by the Roman census returns by omitting ages, they nevertheless transmit much relevant information on household structure. Families with one, two or three adults are similarly common among Greeks (a term used from now on as shorthand for the more precise but also cumbersome Hellenes) and Egyptians (75 versus 79 percent) but very large families were confined to the former group. Differences are more pronounced for households, with 39 percent of Greeks but 60 percent of Egyptians residing in households of one to three adults but no Egyptians living in units of more than 8 adults, whereas 19 percent of Greeks did (the record is held by a 22-adult conglomerate). This contrast is explained as a function of the higher status of the men who headed large Greek households dominated by military men that helped secure the resources required to support non-kin dependents and slaves. In this respect, large Greek households in the Hellenistic period foreshadow metropolitan conditions in the Roman period. More basic nuclear-family households dominated among Egyptians, and Clarysse and Thompson observe a close match between second-century BCE data from Lycopolis and first-century CE data that probably come from the same location (P.Oxy. 6.984). They reasonably suggest that this pattern might be more typical of Egypt than the more complex arrangements we later find in Roman Middle Egypt. 14 percent of Greek households owned slaves, similar to conditions in Roman Egypt, and just as in the latter, adult female slaves predominate (at 63 percent of the total). This adds to the growing body of data on female slavery from the Hellenistic-Roman world and makes modern myths of male-biased slave populations ever harder to sustain. In marriage, virilocality was standard for both Greeks and Egyptians. Eleven probable and five possible cases of polygamy (usually bigamy) appear in the record, albeit with only two exceptions (including one Cyrenean) primarily among Egyptians. That this practice had disappeared by the time of the Roman census returns can be taken as a sign of the growing influence of Greek custom. In contrast to Roman census texts, the Ptolemaic registers fail to provide evidence of full sibling marriage.

272 Reviews Evidence of sex ratios merits closer attention. Modern attempts empirically to substantiate claims that Greeks engaged in femicide have so far been unsuccessful; high sex ratios for children in Hellenistic Miletus or Roman Egypt are readily explicable as the result of concealment that abated as females matured. The Ptolemaic population registers contribute new material but once again fail to demonstrate the phenomenon of femicide. At first sight the data are intriguing: the mean sex ratio for Greek families is 126 (i.e., 126 males for 100 females), compared to 104 for Egyptians. More specifically, 61 Greek conjugal families record 26 sons but only 10 daughters; and extended families include unmarried brothers. These two features are the same: unmarried co-resident brothers were unmarried sons whose parents had died. Is this preponderance of young males a sign of imbalanced sex ratios? This conclusion might be tempting, given that hypergamy would offer a credible rationale, and that some Greek men married Egyptian women whereas the reverse hardly ever occurred. However, while Clarysse and Thompson take pains to emphasize the tentative nature of their findings on sex ratios, they are too quick in dismissing, without supporting argument, the alternative explanation that a later marriage age for males might account for the surfeit of co-resident sons and unmarried brothers. If, in the absence of Ptolemaic data, we apply the agespecific nuptiality rates found in the Roman Egyptian census returns as well as some simplifying assumptions about parental survival, much of the observed ratio of 26 sons to 10 daughters can be explained as a consequence of earlier female marriage.4 While these numbers do leave some room for femicide, they do not support the notion that it was common. The concluding thematic chapter deals with onomastics. 3,163 Egyptian and 1,107 Greek names are fertile ground for analysis. Clarysse and Thompson4 R.S. Bagnall and B.W. Frier, The Demography of Roman Egypt (Cambridge 1994) 113, 117 (and cf. also Clarysse and Thompson 2:295). In order to provide a cut-off point, I (WS) crudely assume that parents died when their children reached age 26 (representing mean parental life expectancy at the averaged median ages of maternity and paternity in Roman Egypt; Bagnall and Frier 136-137, 146). In this scenario, co-resident sons aged 14-26 would have been twice as numerous as co-resident daughters aged 14-26, which means that we would expect to find 26 sons and 13 daughters, compared to 26 and 10 in the registers. Males over 26 who never married would account for the unmarried co-resident brothers found in Greek extended families. I hasten to add that this conjecture raises questions about (indigenous) Egyptian marriage practices; balanced Egyptian sex ratios presuppose similar numbers of co-resident sons and daughters, thereby implying the absence of significant age difference at first marriage. Is that a plausible notion given the substantial gap between mean male and female marriage ages in the Roman period (Bagnall and Frier 111-121)? But cf. the advice in the Instruction of Ankhsheshonq 11.7 to take a wife at age 20, quoted by Clarysse and Thompson 2:293.

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note the complete absence of double names, which shows that for administrative purposes only a single name was recognized. They observe that a paltry 2.5 percent of filiations cross the Egyptian-Hellenic divide. By taking the occurrence of Greek names in Egyptian families to imply Hellenization, they however neglect to note that onomastic Egyptianization seems to have been more common: 6.5 percent of Greek fathers had children with Egyptian names, four times as large a share as the 1.6 percent of Egyptian fathers with Greek-named offspring. Differentiation in marriage practices was much more pronounced: while Greek(-named) men often married Egyptian women (36 of 141 attested Greek husbands, or 26 percent), Egyptian men generally failed to attract Greek wives (8 out of 544, or 1.5 percent). This brief and necessarily highly selective review can only convey a faint impression of the richness of this work. Clarysse and Thompson have produced a landmark study that offers an abundance of data and careful interpretation. Scholars will find themselves in their debt for generations to come. Yale University Stanford University Joe Manning Walter Scheidel

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 275-277 Csaba A. La'da, Greek Documentary Papyri from Ptolemaic Egypt. Corpus Papyrorum Raineri 28. Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2008. xxii + 229 pages + 19 plates in back pocket. ISBN 978-3-11-019523-1. This volume publishes fourteen texts from the Vienna papyrus collection. All texts derive from different pieces of mummy cartonnage that were purchased by the Vienna collection at various points in the not too distant past (1981, 1984, 1991, 1992, 1996). The texts are presented in papyrological fashion, with physical description of the papyrus, Greek text, translation, introduction detailing the most salient information to be gleaned from the text, extensive notes, and a B/W illustration. The usual indices conclude the volume. The edition is lavishly produced. There is much detailed information about every aspect of each text. Every introduction mentions several parallels for the handwriting and summarizes every novel (or even not-so-novel) detail the text is presenting or illustrating. Individual line notes provide minute observations about readings, a full listing of other texts where the same word or expression occurs, onomastic and prosopographical information, and tidbits of historical interest. The result is, more frequently than I would like, an overwhelming amount of information, leaving the reader wondering to what end all this information is given. Although, as with all papyrological text editions, this amount of detailed attention will be the last given to these texts for a long time, and it is good to be able to reconstruct the editors thinking in choosing for specific readings, I am wondering whether much of this information would not be more at home in a papyrus catalog description (preferably in an online database), so that the information presented in the edition could have been restricted to what is really worthwhile and interesting for the intended audiences. Text 1 is the beginning of a receipt for the payment of renewal tax, (Krokodilopolis; 237 BCE). It is the remaining part of a double document, the upper part (scriptura interior) having been lost. The text was probably drawn up by the same scribe who wrote the similar receipt SB 16.12343. Text 2 (mid to late third century BCE) is a small fragment of a letter, apparently written with an Egyptian rush pen. The main interest of the text lies in the fact that ten people (and, mentioned on the verso, a chiton) have to be sent to the author(s?) of the letter during the night, although it is unclear for what purpose. Texts 3-6 are various accounts, all from the mid to late third century BCE, written on two papyrus fragments that possibly formed part of the same papyrus roll as shown specifically by the two related texts on the back (p. 12). Text 3,

276 Reviews an unparalleled financial account, is written on the front of the same papyrus that has 5, an account of tax payments, on its back. Text 4, another text without any real parallel, is an account that mentions agricultural produce (barley, beer, castor seeds) and its price. The text is written on the front of 6, an account of tax payments similar to 5. The texts on the back of the two fragments (5 and 6) are indeed very similar and could have been part of the same document. They contain a running account mentioning the payment of occupational taxes (predominantly millers and shoemakers) by individuals (all bearing Egyptian names) from several locales in the Polemon division of the Arsinoite nome. Text 7 is a fragment of a private letter from the late third to mid second century BCE, which really does not yield much information of interest that would explain the four pages of fine print devoted to it. Texts 8 and 9, two tax accounts from the late third or early second century BCE, are written on different sides of the same papyrus, currently in thirty-one fragments of varying sizes. Their edition is the center of this publication, covering pages 51-168. The commentary contains many interesting discussions about individual names, with welcome references to their Egyptian background. Text 8, the text on the recto, is presented as a register of male tax payers, most likely from the southwestern part of the Fayum. There is, however, no explicit link to any tax, and I am wondering whether we are not dealing with some sort of an account of an association, related to a temple of Souchos, which lists contributions of its members, similar to P.Tebt. 1.224 and P.Tebt. 3.894. This has the additional advantage of not having to interpret (8a.2) as a district, which is, as the editor remarks, without parallel. Text 9, written on the verso, contains a daily account of tax payments, although again there is no explicit link to taxation mentioned in the text. The amounts vary much more than in the recto text. In 9d.21, instead of the ghost name read (this cursive mu is discussed in 9e.38 and 39 nn.). Similarly, in 9e.51 seems preferable to the editors . ( ). Text 10 is a small fragment with unrelated writing on both recto and verso. The recto, an account (?), mentions the Herakleopolite village of Thmoiouthis that is otherwise known only from three other texts. Text 11 is an almost completely preserved petition from 191 BCE. It is addressed to a representative of the dioiketes Athenodoros by a group of naukleroi involved in the transportation of royal grain, and concerns a dispute with tax collectors. Text 12 is a narrow papyrus strip containing the first two lines, only one of which is readable, of a land survey from possibly the second century BCE. Text 13 contains a fragment of official correspondence, possibly from the Hermopolite nome, that mentions royal land but in an unclear context. Text 14, finally, presents 27 mostly minuscule fragments of a royal decree (prostagma) from the late

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second/early first century BCE. Only a couple of fragments (reconstructed on p. 213) yield anything intelligible, but these lines show that this decree is not otherwise known. Reading through the volume, it is quite clear that the editor did not choose (or was allotted?) the easiest of texts, not only to read (which is to be expected from cartonnage texts) but also to interpret. The editor has been successful in teasing out whatever information these texts have to offer (although he could have been advised by the editors of the series to use less words to do so at times). What this volume will be used for most, I think, is as a reference for information about personal names, and anyone finding a reference to a personal name in this volume will be well advised to consult the individual line notes where all known information is listed and sensibly interpreted. University of Michigan Arthur Verhoogt

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 279-280 Steve Pasek, Hawara. Eine gyptische Siedlung in hellenistischer Zeit. Berlin: Frank & Timme, 2007. 514 + 719 pages + CD-ROM. ISBN 978-3-86596-092-4. The two hefty volumes represent the publication of Paseks dissertation (Julius-Maximilians-Universitt, Wrzburg, 2005). The volumes are arranged in a relatively straightforward manner. The first volume involves itself with a short discussion of the site and history of Hawara in the Fayum during the Ptolemaic period. This is followed by sections dealing with the scribal families, religious cults found in the Hawara area, the personnel who served as priests in the cults and their families, the roles of the religious cults within society, the organization of the necropolis and its personnel, and the role of the Gods Sealers and Embalmers. The volume concludes with three sections related to the social and economic impact of these groups, paying particular attention to the role of the Gods Sealers and their families. This includes an investigation of marriage patterns, the economic processes followed, and the role of women in the society. The second volume is a convenient compilation of the 87 Demotic documents which serve as the basis for this study. Most of these texts have been published elsewhere, but the author provides a new translation with commentary of all of the texts. The volume concludes with a bibliography and a series of indices of translated names and terms. A CD-ROM of the new texts is included, though this reviewer found the five files excessively large (43 to 99.5 MB) which made loading and viewing the texts difficult. The discussions in the volumes for the most part are limited to information derived from the texts themselves. This provides a good glimpse of the Egyptian settlement of Hawara. Not much effort is devoted to showing the relationships with Greek settlements (if any) in the Fayum and that may be beneficial since it allows the author to concentrate on organizing the large body of material. There are several significant items of interest, especially the section on the evidence for brother-sister marriage during the Ptolemaic period (pp. 362-364). The new texts that Pasek adds to the Hawara corpus derive mostly from the Ashmolean Oxford fragments published by Reymond (here text numbers 25c, d, and e, with photographs placed on the added CD-ROM). The documents round out our knowledge of the archive with listings of deceased individuals being handled by the necropolis personnel. I would like to make several small comments on the readings and commentary from Urkunde Hawara 25 e (Vol. 2, pp. 289-301).

280 Reviews In lines 4 and 5 of the text, Pasek reads p3 rmt mr i, the man who loves the Baboon(?) (with notes 10 and 15) as an epithet of the deceased person. The reading i for Baboon is perhaps correct, but I think the author neglects to note that the Demotic ligature that we normally read as Dh wty is simply a cryptographic variant of the reed leaf. See Wb 5:606, and the remarks by H. Fairman, BIFAO 43 (1943) 96-97. What that means for Demotists is that the ligature for Thoth is most likely to be a simple variation of the reed leaf and not derived from some other group of signs. This suggests that the orthography of Thoths name in Demotic was a conscious one and not necessarily a simple development from earlier scribal forms in hieratic. The epithet the man who loves Thoth would be an appropriate one for a deceased individual as Thoth is well known to be associated with the dead (see R. Jasnow and K.-Th. Zauzich, The Ancient Egyptian Book of Thoth [Wiesbaden 2005] 1:11). In line 6, Pasek takes h s as either the title, the singer, or as the epithet, praised one. Since the context deals entirely with the listing of deceased individuals, it seems much more likely that praised one is wanted here, especially as most entries list names first and titles afterwards. In line 12, Pasek reads p3 cm H p, the cognizant one of the Apis. His note 27 details his determination, but he admits that there are no other examples of this title. I would recommend reading hm = hnm to be united. See the note by M. Smith, The Mortuary Texts of Papyrus BM 10507 (London 1987) 88. A meaning of one who is united with the Apis as an epithet for the deceased I think gives a slightly better meaning for this individual. Overall Pasek is to be congratulated on producing this compilation of Ptolemaic material, and I look forward to his future studies enabling us to see the importance of this site in our understanding of the Ptolemaic period. Northern Arizona University Eugene Cruz-Uribe

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 287-288 Nikos Litinas, Greek Ostraca from Chersonesos (Ostraca Cretica Chersonesi). Tyche Supplementband 6. Wien: Holzhausen, 2008. 81 pages + 48 unnumbered plates. ISBN 978-3-85493-164-5. This volume publishes an interesting archive of accounting ostraca. The texts were discovered during a rescue excavation conducted in the area of the ancient theater in the Roman town of Chersonesos on the northern coast of Crete. While this city is not widely known to scholars, it was a large industrial center in Roman Crete and a trading port that dealt in amphorae, purple extraction, and fishing. There are ninety ostraca published in Litinas edition. The texts come in two forms, both of which are accounts. Form A begins with a Roman date (in Greek) including the day and sometimes the month. Names of individuals appear in the nominative, followed by a digit and unit of measure (metretai, a liquid measure, indicating that the commodity in question was wine or oil). Texts in the category of Form B also include a date (often scanty), one or the other of only two personal names in the nominative or dative, and an amount of money (expressed in denarii and chalkoi). The texts with metretai come from two periods of the year, March-April and November-December; the texts with amounts of money are dated to June. In the agricultural cycle of this area, March-April is the time of year when the wine from the previous autumns vintage was opened, and November-December the olive harvest and oil pressing; June was the beginning of sailing season. In other words, the dates on the texts confirm that Form A texts refer to agriculture, and Form B to commerce. The texts themselves clearly represent a discrete archive. Only nine personal names appear in the texts, and the content of the texts is quite limited, as is the number of scribes who wrote them (Litinas identifies six scribes as the writers of one-third of the texts). The ostraca lack year dates, but Litinas convincingly places them from the second half of the second century CE through the first half of the third century CE. Litinas has done an excellent job of analyzing the data from the texts, and his conclusions, while understandably speculative, are supported both by the texts themselves and by what is otherwise known about the agricultural and trade cycles of Crete. The archive must represent the working notes of the manager of an agricultural estate or of a commercial enterprise dealing in agricultural products. The workers represented in the Form A texts were employees or slaves who delivered merchandise to the marketplace. The two individuals in the Form B texts, both of them with names of Latin derivation, were either accountants, bankers, or agents doing business with the owner of the estate/commercial enterprise.

288 Reviews These texts are of course of especial interest because they present nonEgyptian documentary evidence of a sort that is rarely seen. In this, they provide us with comparanda to Egyptian material as regards handwriting (Litinas catalogs the very limited amount of documentary material from Greece and Crete), the use of weights and measures, onomastics, and accounting methods. Scholars who focus on ancient accounting or on the delivery and sale of agricultural products will find this book of particular interest. Wayne State University Jennifer Sheridan Moss

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 295-297 S.J. Clackson, It Is Our Father Who Writes: Orders From the Monastery of Apollo at Bawit. American Studies in Papyrology 43. Cincinnati: American Society of Papyrologists, 2008. xviii + 146 pages + 39 plates. ISBN 978-0-9700591-5-4. In this posthumously published edition, Sarah Clackson gathers, organizes, and interprets 91 documents concerning the administration of an Egyptian monastery in the eighth century. Almost all of the documents are connected with the Monastery of Apollo at Bawit, the site which was central to Clacksons work.1 Most of them are orders issued by a monastic superior, probably the head of the monastery himself, to various subordinates. A standard opening formula, It is our father who writes to his son, is found in 71 of the texts. This Our father-formula unites the collection and allows comparison of many documents within a genre. The texts are organized by signatory (27 documents), with 7 different signatories certainly attested. Texts lacking a signatory are arranged by types of orders (33 documents). The collection concludes with fragmentary texts (11 documents) and editions of texts found on the other side of some Our fatherformula texts (20 documents). Each text receives full treatment, including physical description, palaeography, transcription, critical apparatus, English translation, and commentary. In addition to Clacksons attentive editing and annotating of each document, the volume also includes a clear introduction to interpretive issues, 11 topical and linguistic indexes, 39 representative plates, and 3 tables arranging the Our father-formula documents by date, addressee, or scribe. The introduction isolates new or distinctive features of the corpus, such as place names, foods, fuel, fodder, construction materials, and textiles. Economic issues dominate the collection, as is often the case with documentary papyri. The orders for payments, invoices, or receipts are based on this template: Opening formula: It is our father who writes to his son[s], NN ( ) Introduction: [Be so kind to] ( [ ]) S.J. Clackson, Coptic and Greek Texts Relating to the Hermopolite Monastery of Apa Apollo (Oxford 2000); and eadem, Museum Archaeology and Coptic Papyrology: The Bawit Papyri, Coptic Studies on the Threshold of a New Millennium: Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Coptic Studies, ed. M. Immerzeel and J. van der Vliet (Leuven and Dudley, MA, 2004) 1:477-490; and eadem, Archimandrites and Andrismos: A Preliminary Survey of Taxation at Bawit, Akten des 23. Internationalen Papyrologenkongresses, ed. B. Palme (Wien 2007) 103-107.1

296 Reviews Order for payment: Give (commodity) () Invoice: Here is (the commodity) I have sent ( ... ) Receipt: Here is (the commodity), I have received it ( ... -/ ) This template can be followed by any of five different forms of date and scribe, with a signatory at the end. One well-preserved example, a Receipt for Stone (no. 15), is representative of the genre: It is our father who writes to his son, the scribe Apollo and Shenoute the builder. A stone has come into my hands from the stones ascribed to you. It is to Papnoute, the builder of Posh, that I have given it. Pachon 17, indiction 9. Victor, I wrote. Daniel agrees. Besides the orders for payments, invoices, or receipts, there are also documents relating to the administration of a poll-tax and several others too fragmentary to interpret. Clackson proposes a possible function of the Our father-formula texts as a type of document employed by the head of the monasterys office when addressing short orders to internal monastery staff. The proposal that these were usually internal documents, not intended for commercial or other correspondence outside the monastery, is strengthened by the fact that only one of them (no. 37) has something resembling an address. Rather, they were official internal documentation issued from the superior. Many of the documents lack the actual signature of the monastic superior, and therefore the type apparently did not require his presence in order for it to be issued from his office. It is possible, though, that the names of some of these leaders are preserved in the signatures. Twenty of the documents are signed by Georgios, Daniel, or Keri, as in the receipt quoted above (no. 15, signed by Daniel). Furthermore, Clackson notes that the dates of their respective signatures in so far as the dates can be ascertained form a sequence spanning several documents. The first is attested only in indiction years 6-7, the second in years 8-9, and the third in years 11-13. Clackson is tentative in her argument, but to this reader, the fact that both Georgios and Daniel also appear in P.Mon.Apollo 25 and 26 as archimandrites of the Hermopolite monastery of Apa Apollo makes her suggestion stronger than she admits. Another formulaic expression, inquire after ( -), appears only once in the collection (no. 54, and perhaps again, no. 47, in a conjecture). It is previously known from Coptic ostraca as an opening formula in orders.2 Clackson suggests that the Our father-formula papyri typically comprise the orders from the monastic superior, which were meant for longer preservation.2 In addition to Clacksons work on the Bawit ostraka in the Louvre, see M.R.M. Hasitzka, Ein neues Archiv koptischer Ostraka (CPR 20; Wien 1995).

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Upon receipt of these papyrus orders, a scribe would fill out an ostracon (using the shine nsa-formula) with the request for the commodity, and hand it to a person who would be responsible for the delivery. The papyrus would be an official copy for archival purposes, while the ostracon would be for reference during the execution of the order. The 20 documents written on the other side of Our father-formula documents are also worthy of study, even though they are all fragmentary. We see glimpses of several monastic letters, an order for payment to a beekeeper, and other fragments of receipts, contracts, or letters. In conclusion, although each of the documents gathered in this collection provides only a glimpse into eighth-century monastic life, a more vivid picture emerges when so many of the same genre are gathered and explained. After completing the manuscript for publication, James Clackson remarked that this edition will fall short of the standard that Sarah Clackson would have set for herself. Throughout the books annotations and commentaries, he has occasionally added material in brackets, usually to convey Sarahs unincorporated notes on a text offering the reader a unique chance to engage briefly with the scholar at work. Some of these will look very familiar to every papyrologist, such as the repeated comment, SJC wondered whether , and this bracketed comment on no. 80: SJC noted the transcription needs a lot more attention! While the edition is perhaps not up to the standards she would have set for herself, the scholarship displayed in this unfinished work is nonetheless of the highest caliber. Fordham University Michael Peppard

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 299-306 Claudio Gallazzi and Gisle Hadji-Minaglou, Tebtynis I. La reprise des fouilles et le quartier de la chapelle dIsis-Thermouthis. Cairo: Institut franais darchologie orientale, 2000. 126 pages + preface and plates. ISBN 2-7247-0275-1. Gisle Hadji-Minaglou, Tebtynis IV. Les habitations lest du temple de Soknebtynis. Cairo: Institut franais darchologie orientale, 2007. 250 pages + preface and plates. ISBN 978-2-7247-0468-6. Together these two volumes present important results from the FrancoItalian excavations at the southern edge of the Ptolemaic and Roman settlement at Umm-el-Breigat, in two adjacent sectors at the northeast corner of the temple of Soknebtynis. Volume 1 describes the quarter of the chapel of Isis-Thermouthis, including both sacred and residential buildings. Volume 4 focuses on the area of housing directly to the south. While the excavators have already discussed aspects of this work in print elsewhere, sometimes in more detail, these volumes provide an opportunity to contextualise their work with respect to the recent history of the site as a whole, and more importantly, to draw together the evidence for the occupation of the area as a coherent district, offering conclusions about patterns of development through time and space. Repeated reference is made in Volume 4 to material presented in Volume 1, and the former also elaborates on questions of continuity and change which are raised in the latter. Each can be read in isolation and readers who study both together will necessarily find some repetition of basic facts and interpretation. They will, nevertheless, be amply compensated by a perceptive and detailed picture of how occupation in this whole area changed through time, developments which are well summarised in the second part of Gallazzis introduction to Volume 1 and in Hadji-Minaglous conclusion to Volume 4. Volume 1 opens with an introduction by Gallazzi to early investigations at the site. In particular, Grenfell and Hunts rich finds of papyrus here attracted the attention of other papyrus-seekers as well as antiquities-dealers and sebakhin, whose activities have progressively degraded the remains of the settlement and hampered systematic investigation of its layout, architecture, and stratigraphy. When the Franco-Italian excavations began in 1988 their aim was to build on previous archaeological and papyrological research, exploring how patterns of occupation changed through time and recovering further material before it was lost. The detailed description of the excavated material which takes up the remainder of Volume 1 and is continued in Volume 4, together with the detailed analysis of settlement change referred to above, demonstrates

300 Reviews that the excavators have met both of these objectives very well. While preservation of individual structures was incomplete due both to modern activity and to damage to the Ptolemaic levels caused by later, Roman constructions, the excavators were nonetheless able to date the different phases of each building and reconstruct its extent and layout. In most cases they were also able to comment on the functions of individual structures during different periods. These results amply justify the attention paid to the site, even in its disturbed state. While the excavators themselves consider the chapel of Isis-Thermouthis to be their most interesting discovery, this reviewer was particularly interested in the domestic architecture whose description occupies two out of the six chapters in Volume 1 and seven out of eight in Volume 4. Stratigraphy and architecture in each house are discussed systematically with the aid of a generous number of clear and informative sections and plans which are reproduced at a large scale (1:50). Scholars working on housing in other parts of the Graeco-Roman world will be fascinated by the excellent preservation of the architecture and of construction elements rarely surviving elsewhere, such as the wooden window frame and shutter found in house 2400. Nevertheless, like the housing from other Egyptian sites of this period, the structures from Tebtynis are an emphatic reminder of how culturally distinctive this region was. The amount of living space in each case was relatively small and the rooms are frequently entered sequentially rather than radiating from a central space. Particularly notable is the absence in the earlier houses of the exterior courtyard space which is a hallmark of Hellenistic housing in other areas of the Greek koine. Such differences can only partly be attributed to the village location, which is atypical of excavated houses from the Graeco-Roman world in general. Unlike a number of recent publications of excavated houses from a variety of cultural contexts, only sporadic mention is made here of the objects found in the different spaces. Presumably this is because the disturbance of the deposits emptied the houses of most of their contents. As a consequence the roles played by different spaces are assessed with reference to architectural features alone. In general these are sensibly used to offer only a very broad distinction between habitation- and service-rooms. There are, nonetheless, recognisable changes in the uses of different areas and structures through time, and it is these which enable Hadji-Minaglou to paint such a vivid picture of the way in which this quarter of Tebtynis developed. During the earlier Ptolemaic period houses of varying size were widely spaced, and although positioned on approximately the same orientation, they were seemingly not located with reference to each other. By the second to first centuries BCE two of these early structures had been replaced and a further one was used as a rubbish dump. In the final oc-

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cupation phase the area had become more built-up, with two distinct housing insulae bordered by streets. Alongside the occupied houses and a newly constructed pyrgos or tower structure, Hadji-Minaglou identifies other houses which had fallen into ruin, and in addition, an extensive rubbish dump. The recognition of such change through time is vital for a precise and accurate understanding, not only of the development of the settlement as a whole, but also of the context of individual objects recovered there. For example, identification of refuse deposits on a cellar floor in house 6300 enables the author to classify papyri associated with that floor as material discarded in the house following its abandonment, rather than as items linked with the use of the house. This offers a salutary warning to anyone interested in trying to understand papyri in the context of their original use: before doing so a careful consideration of formation processes is vital for establishing the nature of the connection between the documents and the structure in which they were located. Such an approach could fruitfully inform the continuing study of material from other sites such as Karanis. University of Michigan Lisa C. Nevett

Vincent Rondot, Tebtynis II. Le temple de Soknebtynis et son dromos. FIFAO 50. Cairo: Insitut franais darchologie orientale, 2004. xlii + 302 pages. ISBN 2-7247-0362-6. This volume is part of a series, Fouilles franco-italiennes, published by the IFAO, for the French-Italian excavations at Kom Umm el-Boreigat, ancient Tebtynis, in the Fayyum.1 It is divided into four chapters followed by Conclusions, an Addendum (by C. Gallazzi and G. Hadji-Minaglou), and Indexes. Abbreviations and Bibliography precede the authors Introduction. The volume is not only an archaeological report of recent excavations in the areas of the temenos and the dromos of Soknebtynis, but also a study of archaeological evidence from past excavations, verified on the site, critically evaluated, and compared with new data collected from Tebtynis as well as from other sites in the Fayyum, and an analysis of the extant written sources. Rondot points out that this is only the first phase in a long term research project, comprising a study of the written sources from the temples archive (papyri from the C. Gallazzi C. and G. Hadji-Minaglou, Tebtynis I. La reprise des fouilles et le quartier de la chapelle dIsis-Thermouthis (Le Caire 2000); N. Litinas, Tebtynis III. Vessels Notations from Tebtynis (Le Caire 2008); G. Hadji-Minaglou, Tebtynis IV. Les habitations a lest du temple de Soknebtynis (Le Caire 2007).1

302 Reviews priests libraries2 and from the dump east of the temple) and the new excavations of the deipneteria along the dromos3 and the buildings inside the temenos. The French-Italian mission did not have the time and the resources to dig the whole temenos (63 x 113 m); therefore the study of the temple derives from the archival material of previous excavations and test trenches dug in relevant contexts from 1989 to 1993. The temenos and the dromos were excavated mainly by C. Anti and G. Bagnani from 1930 to 1935 on behalf of the University of Padova. Few articles were published about the discoveries at that time, but a rich archive of photographs, documents, and plans at Padova University (Antis archive) and at Trent University (Bagnanis papers)4 allowed Rondot to revisit their discoveries step by step. Chapter 1 is dedicated to the temenos. Divided into four main parts, it deals with the description5 of various sectors of the temenos and its related buildings: the walls of the temenos and its gates, the first and second courtyards with the buildings, and the main artefacts found there. The analysis benefited from a multi-phase plan by F. Franco, the architect of the Paduan mission. Rondot accepts Anti and Bagnanis interpretations of contexts and buildings only to a certain degree. For example, Rondot has rejected, with convincing arguments, the interpretation of an intriguing round mud brick structure found in the 1930s as the enclosure for a sacred crocodile ( 21). Chapter 2 focuses on the temple building, destroyed and ransacked from Late Antiquity to the present. The accurate study of the scanty remains and of the complex system of the mud brick substructures of the foundation allowed Rondot to argue that the temple and the temenos were part of a coherent project of construction dating to the reign of Ptolemy I. At the end of this chapter he gives a reconstruction of the general appearance of the temple, which was 19.20 m long and 13.10 m wide, with an estimated height of 6.50 m.6 The pres For an overview, see K. Ryholt, On the Contents and Nature of the Tebtunis Temple Library. A Status Report, in S. Lippert and M. Schentuleit (eds.), Tebtynis und Soknopaiu Nesos (Wiesbaden 2005) 141-170. 3 The dromos and the deipneteria have been excavated during the 2001-2005 seasons: cf. the Addendum in this volume and the annual reports published in BIFAO 20022006. Moreover: F. Reiter, Symposia in Tebtynis Zu den griechischen Ostraka aus den neuen Grabungen, in Lippert and Schentuleit (n. 2) 131-140. 4 J For this archive cf. D.J.I. Begg, The Canadian Tebtunis Connection at Trent University, EMC n.s. 17 (1998) 385-405. 5 The comprehension of the description of walls, layers, and features would have benefited from numbering them in the text and on the plans. 6 The temple was surrounded by a limestone block wall and fronted by a pronaos. In overall it measured 20 x 37 m. Rondot suggests a virtual reconstruction of the monu2

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ence of a chapel at the rear of the temple, or of a contra-temple, is suggested but not fully supported by evidence on the ground ( 95). In Chapter 3 the vestibule in front of the main gate is described with an analysis of its architecture, decorations, and furniture. Great attention has been paid to its decoration, at present almost completely lost but particularly well documented by photos taken by the Paduan archaeologists. One register of a high quality bas-relief was still partially preserved mainly on the western walls of the vestibule during the 1930s. The analysis and interpretation of the figures (of which the heads are lost) and the scenes is very accurate and contributes to a more refined knowledge of the pantheon and rituals of the temple of Soknebtynis ( 102-121). The vestibule has been dated to the reign of Ptolemy X, but its decoration was carried out under Ptolemy XII. Chapter 4 is dedicated to the main dromos and the east-west dromos. The main dromos (210 m long, 6.35 m wide) is divided into two sections: the first runs between the vestibule and the north courtyard of the Ptolemaic kiosk; the second from this courtyard up to the extant limit of the paving. This division reflects two phases in the life of the dromos, which was extended and repaved in the Augustan period. Rondot has archaeologically dated the pair of lions on high pedestals placed at the end of the south courtyard of the Roman kiosk to the Hellenistic period, in contrast to the original dating by Bagnani to the Roman period ( 152). These lions probably marked the beginning of the dromos in the 2nd cent BC. The two bases interpreted by Bagnani as part of a monumental gate located at the beginning of the dromos, have been reinterpreted as bases for a couple of new statues (lions or sphinxes) marking the beginning of the extended dromos dated to the Augustan period ( 158). Tebtynis dromos is certainly one of the best preserved paved roads in the Fayyum,7 not only because the paving is almost fully preserved, but also because of the array of buildings and features standing on it and on its sides (two kiosks, altars, statues of lions and sphinxes, deipneteria). It offers a great and unique opportunity to investigate a complex monumental structure ofments (e.g., the second gate, the Roman kiosk), in different parts of the volume. The reconstruction is always carefully based on parallels and geometric proportions. 7 New excavations in the temenos and on the dromos at Dime/Soknopaiou Nesos (Soknopaios temple complex) started in 2003: P. Davoli, The Temple Area of Soknopaiou Nesos, in P. Davoli-M. Capasso (ed.), New Archaeological and Papyrological Researches on the Fayyum (Galatina 2007) 95-124; ead., Archaeological Research in Roman Soknopaiou Nesos: Result and Perspectives, in K. Lembke, M. Minas-Nerpel, and S. Pfeiffer (eds.), Tradition and Transformation: Egypt under Roman Rule (Leiden and Boston 2010) 53-77.

304 Reviews the Hellenistic and Roman periods connected with the temple and its rituals, which are not very well known. This is the first time in which an Egyptian dromos has been so carefully examined and published.8 The archaeological and architectural plans, the cross sections of the new trenches, and the photographs are excellent. Great attention has been paid not only to the large scale features, such as the kiosks and the lions, but also to small scale evidence such as stains and surface finishing of the paving. Black stains are concentrated in specific areas: according to Rondot they mark the places where portable burning altars were used during the ceremonies. Trenches dug at the northern end of the main dromos revealed that in this area there was probably a natural slope toward the North. For this reason it became necessary to build foundation structures made of two parallel walls in mud brick and limestone blocks. The space in between these two walls was filled with sand and rubble in order to level the paving of the dromos with its southern half (157). At present it is unknown where the Augustan dromos originally started, but according to Rondot the two bases for the lions could have marked its beginning. Rondots hypothesis that a quay was probably located at the beginning of the dromos is not sufficiently argued for nor supported by clear evidence (p. 173). A series of trenches were cut in the 2001-2002 seasons in order to investigate the lower layers of the dromos. The results of these excavations are summarised in the Addendum.9 Most of Rondots conclusions have been confirmed by these later excavations, which have also uncovered a new kiosk in mud brick dated to the 3rd cent. BC with the contemporary paving of the dromos. This kiosk was probably part of the dromos first phase, built concomitantly with the temple and the temenos (reign of Ptolemy I). Therefore the dromos was comprised of three phases of paving: an early Hellenistic pavement, a second one dating to the 2nd cent. BC and contemporary with the limestone Hellenistic kiosk, and the latest Augustan one which was built at the same time as the Roman kiosk. Before the construction of the deipneteria (dating from the reign of Trajan),10 the dromos was flanked by 13 m wide spaces partially occupied by statues (lions and sphinxes set at regular intervals) and trees (Addendum, p. 202). According to Rondot there should have been a pre-Hellenistic temple, as suggested by textual evidence, but the results of the most recent excavations8 The Theban processional roads are not so carefully published, as is evident from the excellent study of A. Cabrol, Les voies processionelles de Thbes (Leuven 2001). 9 Cf. also C. Gallazzi, Umm-El-Breigt (Tebtynis): 2002, ASAE 79 (2005) 107114. 10 Datings are based on the stratigraphy and the presence of coins.

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exclude this possibility. In fact, it has been demonstrated that in the dromos area there are no occupational levels predating the Hellenistic period. As stated above, the volume is much more than an archaeological report: Rondot discusses in different chapters many aspects of the pantheon and ritual at Tebtynis as well as the history of the toponym (with its orthographic variants). His final conclusion about the main gods worshipped in the temple is that there were two in the naos: Sobek-Geb (=Soknebtynis-Kronos) and Sobek-Re-Harakhty. From this hypothesis he argues that Sobek was systematically worshipped in the Fayyum as a double god.11 This volume, carefully prepared according to the high standard of the IFAO, is a substantial contribution to the study of temples and religion in the Fayyum during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. It represents a fundamental step toward a better understanding of the urban development of the site. Universit del Salento Paola Davoli

Nikos Litinas, Tebtynis III: Vessels Notations from Tebtynis. Cairo: Institut franais darchologie orientale, 2008. 365 pages. ISBN 9782-7247-0467-9 This is the latest volume of the publication of the Franco-Italian excavations at Tebtynis; four volumes have appeared in the series thus far. This volume includes 820 of the 1500 texts on vessels found at the site, those uncovered from 1997-2003. The texts from earlier and later seasons will presumably be published elsewhere, and Litinas refers to some of the unpublished texts in the present volume. In the introduction, Litinas argues for the term vessels notation as an alternative to the varied phraseology that has been used, imprecisely, in published descriptions of such objects, such as dipinto and inscription. He also presents a set of criteria that can be used to distinguish a vessels notation from an ostrakon; still, there is a group of texts (518-548) which could be ostraca. In this volume Litinas gathers a list of all published vessels notations from Roman Egypt. In addition to a bibliographic reference and description, Litinas annotates as necessary. I am aware of one more text from the Eastern Desert that should be included in this list, SB 20.15371 = R.S. Bagnall and J.A. Sheridan, Greek and Latin Documents from Abu Shaar, 1992-1993, BASP 31

11 On this topic see now G. Widmer, On Egyptian Religion at Soknopaiou Nesos in the Roman Period (P.Berlin P 6750), in Lippert and Schentuleit (n. 2) 171-184.

306 Reviews (1994) 109-120, Plate 22. The text is a painted notation on an amphora shoulder reading / / ( ). Vessels notations as a whole present little but frustration to the scholar, and this group from Tebtynis is no exception. Among the notations one commonly finds are personal names (which could belong to anyone who came into contact with the vessel, such as the producer, the shipper, or the consumer, among others), place names (likewise ambiguous), notations concerning content, and numerals. Of course, in a fragmentary state, or because of the use of abbreviations, these notations might be limited to a letter or two, as are the majority of the texts from Tebtynis. Even the most complete of such texts may defy interpretation. Litinas has wisely grouped the texts within the catalog according to their completeness, that is, according to how likely it is that any particular text will yield information useful to the study of the site. Within each category, complete texts are grouped chronologically (the majority of the texts date from the second half of the third century BCE through the third century CE, with a few outliers from the Byzantine period), followed by fragments. In the introduction, the editor has catalogued the personal and place names that occur in the corpus. None of these is notable except the name Scipio, written in Greek () on an imported amphora (12) from the second century BCE. This name is not otherwise attested in Graeco-Roman Egypt Interesting texts include several with decoration, such as 141, a Ptolemaic text that includes a personal name with an illustration of a bird, perhaps Horus, and 819, a small fragment of an amphora shoulder with a pentalpha (star in a circle). A few texts record Latin names (177-180); two of these preserve interpuncts between the much-abbreviated words. The shoulder of an amphora (394) sports a notation with the abbrevation ( ), followed by a year, perhaps indicating that the contents of the amphora constituted a tax payment in kind. While the vast majority of these brief and cryptic texts are unlikely to shed any light on the life of Tebtynis, Litinas has edited each to the fullest extent possible and has organized them in a way that will be most useful to those who will study the site. Litinas deserves our gratitude for this thankless job. Wayne State University Jennifer Sheridan Moss

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 307-312 Rosario Pintaudi (ed.) Antinoupolis I. Istituto Papirologico G. Vitelli Scavi e Materiali 1. Florence: Istituto Papirologico G. Vitelli, 2008. 552 pages + map in separate packet. ISBN 978-88-87829-38-9. Antinoupolis I is the first volume of a projected series of preliminary reports on the excavations of the Istituto Papirologico G. Vitelli, in this case at Antinoopolis in Middle Egypt. Most of the reports pertain to the 2000-2007 work, but some go back much further. The volume is not an introduction to the site, much less a final report, but a series of stand-alone specialist reports. Since all the chapters are in the authors own styles, there is no consistent style for bibliographies, references, or illustrations. There is no index or list of illustrations, and chapters are not even numbered. All reports are in Italian unless otherwise noted. That said, the volume presents an enormous amount of new information, most of it well illustrated. The lavish use of color is especially valuable for artifacts such as glass, dipinti, papyri, paintings, and site photographs. Chapter 1 (reviewers numbering) summarizes previous work at Antinoopolis from the early 20th century onwards, and in more detail the 2000 through 2007 seasons. Most of the 2003 and 2004 excavations centered on trenches A, B, and C at Kom II A, and most of the later seasons on the North Necropolis. There are no maps showing the specific location of these operations, but most of them can be generally located on the excellent 1998 1:4000 and 1:2000 maps contained in a separate pocket. Chapter 1 is translated into English in chapter 28. Judging from the staff list, the focus of excavation was on texts, and this set of reports is indeed one of the strengths of the volume. Chapter 5 presents an overview. A few fragments, mostly 6th-8th century Coptic and a few 4th-5th century Greek texts, were recovered from Kom II A, but the majority came from the North Necropolis. The documents are on parchment or papyrus, in Greek or Coptic, and include Biblical fragments, many oracle letters, an exorcism, contracts, the Book of Re, and a fragment of the Odyssey. Twenty oracle letters and phylacteries are shown in various stages of conservation, as well as some parchment fragments, including pages from Isaiah and 2 Kings. Chapters 6 and 7 deal with a piece of painted papyrus showing two (or three?) imperial figures on a horse or horses. It may have been part of a 4th-6th century pattern book. Chapter 8 treats the Odyssey fragment, which contains part of Book 3 and dates to the late 3rd or early 4th century. Chapter 9 (French) transcribes and discusses two of the Biblical parchments. The 2 Kings fragment consists of two columns on each side of the page. On the basis of the majuscule Greek script it may be dated to the end of the 5th century, which makes it one of the oldest if not the oldest fragment of 2 Kings. Four fragments from the Book of

308 Reviews Ezekiel also contain a number of variants that may be of interest to Biblical scholars. Chapter 10 (French) covers ten other Greek and Coptic texts, including some found in the 1980s. The 5th century parchments include fragments of Psalms, 4 Maccabees, which is said to be poorly attested in Coptic, and the Gospel of John, said to be closer to the Greek than usual for Coptic. From the 7th and 8th centuries there are leaves of two Coptic psalteries, one of which is bilingual Akhmimic Coptic and Greek. Finally, there are two out of nearly two hundred oracular questions to St. Colluthus, a local saint, a very flowery 9th century Coptic funerary plaque, and a 6th century Greek prayer to St. John the Baptist clumsily written on a large ostracon. The oracle letters ask whether the petitioner should seek medical/magical cure from the saint, apparently a very late continuation of the Late Egyptian oracle cults. Chapter 11 (French) is a short note on some Greek funerary inscriptions. One commemorates a 2nd or 3rd century Cynic philosopher, two are 6th-7th century stone slabs, and the last was painted in red on the bottom of an upside down LRA7 amphora. Many graves were marked by upside down pots; this one is unusual for being inscribed, and with not one but two names. Chapter 12 (French) is one of the most interesting in the whole volume. Here Jean-Luc Fournet and Dominique Pieri present some preliminary results of their study of the dipinti on LRA7 and LRA1 amphoras, one of the most widely distributed, poorly studied, cursive, and challenging categories of Greek texts. The dipinti are scrawled on the shoulders and necks of large amphoras, which are generally fragmentary. The ink, especially the red ink, may be fugitive and close to the sherd color. Even with experience reading cursive, stylized script, the dipinti can be hard to decipher, especially the later 6th and 7th century ones. Even now these difficulties do not permit a full understanding of the dipinti, though there are some useful, highly stylized parallels in the Byzantine Greek protokollon. Since the amphoras of Late Antiquity were not standardized in shape or volume and could carry a range of products, collaboration with a ceramicist (Pieri) was crucial in interpreting the numbers and names in the dipinti. Antinoopolis yielded a good range of material from the early 5th to the second half of the 7th century, mostly North African spatheia and Cicilian/Cypriot LRA1. The authors tackle the spatheia first; their inscriptions are generally in black ink and somewhat easier to read. The inscriptions usually include elements such as: (for ) (amen) (grace of God) + (gain and a numerical code)

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Names such as Paulos, Abramios, Apollinarios, Ioulianos, or (St. Somebody, probably a religious establishment) Sometimes the name of a place or region The quantity written three times in three lines, presumably because it was the most important information The LRA1 dipinti are far less legible. The vessels at Antinoopolis were used for wine (and not, say, oil or garum) and were scribbled all over in the course of being traded. The authors split the inscriptions into four parts: a) a large scrawly one on the shoulder in front; b) another one scribbled above it; c) names and numbers in small letters under a handle; and sometimes d) a largeletter inscription on the neck. Type a usually starts with a large Christogram, two or three illegible letters, a vertical slash or cross, and numbers indicating the quantity contained, so many or sextarii. There may also be abbreviations of sacred names such as () or (). Interestingly, the authors suggest that . . . notre mystrieuse squence [the Christograms, etc.] tait superflue. . . , and that the elements, stylized to the point of illegibility . . . ne devaient pas cacher des donnes capitales sur le plan commercial. (p. 187). The occurrence of such dipinti from Gaul to Egypt does however attest to standardization and commercialization on a grand scale. The little inscriptions (c) generally contain two names (though seldom the same two) and some numbers. Fournet suggests, very tentatively, that the names pertain to various wine sources collected at an emporium on the coast, but the question needs further analysis.1 We look forward to Fournets and Pieris forthcoming publications. A selection of coins is presented in chapters 13 and 14. Some 170 coins from Late Roman to early Islamic times were registered, plus about a hundred minimi. The 170 larger coins are tabulated on p. 118, and there is a discussion of the PAN/PON/ROM legend on a large percentage of the coins. It is suggested that PAN is a short form of and that this legend, plus the large number of minimi, point to local coinage. Chapter 14 catalogs a hoard of 171 gold coins found in the church of St. Colluthus in 1975. Most of the coins date to Valentinian I (364-375) and Valens (364-378) though they range from Constans II (337-361) to Justinian I (525-565). The architectural and archaeological reports are more uneven in quality. In chapters 2 and 3 (German) Peter Grossman presents useful plans of the1 A comparison between the Antinoopolis LRA1 dipinti and a hundred or so from Bir Umm Fawakhir supports Fournets analysis. The large type a inscriptions follow the same pattern, and the little upside-down names and numbers under the handles (c) are abundant but seem to have different names. This makes sense; Bir Umm Fawakhir in the Western Desert did not have to have the same wine sources as Antinoopolis.

310 Reviews Peristyle Building and the St. Colluthus church and vicinity, brief, competent descriptions of the architecture, and a discussion of medical incubation. The little St. Colluthus church seems to have been a martyrium sheltering a relic of the saint, but not his body. More importantly, it was an oracle site, as attested by the scores of oracle letters and ex votos, and a place of healing via holy water from the shrine and incubation in rooms next door. Chapter 27, on the Hippodrome, consists of three very large fold-outs with a very schematic plan and some rough cross-sections and a technical note about mapping procedure. The color photographs are more informative; they show a remarkably intact if sanded up hippodrome complete with spina and carceres. Chapter 16, on the ceramics from Kom II A, fills almost a quarter of the volume. The sherds are published in color, a major improvement on hatching and cross-hatching, and are supplemented with color photographs. The drawings, however, are little more than raw field sketches in pencil and felt tip pen. Since they lack any standardization or even a scale, it is sometimes hard to tell the inside from the outside of a sherd or which group of sherds go together, though the catalog helps. The pottery from Kom II A is datable mainly to the 5th-7th centuries and is divided into five groups for the purpose of this report: sigillata, including Tunisian African Red Slip (ARS) ware and local copies; undecorated vessels; vessels with incised or relief decoration; painted vessels; and amphoras. One unusual ARS plate is stamped with a Pegasus or rampant horse. Sherd no. 187 is said to be ornamented in high relief (p. 324) but the drawing (p. 380) shows an unremarkable jar neck; only the photographs (p. 413) illustrate the writhing, ropy, plume-like, and finny elements. Some 178 painted sherds were drawn and cataloged, but the amphoras get less than two plates (pp. 404-405). There is considerable evidence for pottery production on both Kom II A and the nearby Kom II B, especially LRA7 amphoras at the latter. Interestingly, many of the LRA7 amphoras have a small hole in the neck to allow wine fermentation gasses to escape.2 Rough edges aside, it is useful to have so large a corpus available so soon after excavation; the final report with clearer organization, dating, and more nearly complete comparanda will be more useful still. Finally, chapter 16 discusses one decorated sherd, a plate with a painting of the Dormition of the Virgin; the scene is further illustrated with many similar representations in various media created as late as the 19th century. Some glass finds are discussed in chapters 17 and 18: these include glass tiles and millefiore inlay plaques from funerary chapels in the North Necropolis and a technical study of their pine resin adhesives. Sandals, shoes, and boots2

Note an ostracon mentioning vine dressers on p. 11.

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are thoroughly covered by Simona Russo in chapter 19. An amazing array of footwear was retrieved from the North Necropolis and East Kom, presumably from mummies. It includes a range of pointy-toed and rounded sandals, adult and childrens shoes, cut-out decoration, fancy lacing, and even two pairs of boots, one of which belonged to the lady Tgl. We hope to see other finds such as cloth, glass vessels, and lamps glimpsed in chapter 1 treated so well in future volumes. Studies of the graves in the North Necropolis and outlying tombs are sketchy; the overview in chapter 1 is the most useful summary. Most of the burials were badly disturbed, but three sepultures were found more or less intact. Chapter 4, little more than field notes with photographs, deals with the burial of the lady Tgl. The grave was marked by a funerary plaque in Coptic and the wooden coffin and body of Tgl were relatively intact. She was wrapped in a yellow shroud and had a padded ring and at least three layers of cloth to protect her face. Her hair was cut into bangs, and she wore a very fine garment next to her skin, then a fancy tunic with decorated bands and a colorful roundel in front, a heavier outer tunic with maroon borders, a scarf, hair net, and boots. Unfortunately the textiles were impossible to conserve. Since textiles are one of the glories of Coptic art it seems a pity not to have saved so complete a funerary outfit. Chapters 24 and 25 present some very large scale maps, without reference points, of eleven tombs cut into the cliffs east of Antinoopolis, plus photographs and schematic plans and sections of each. Although Antinoopolis was founded by Hadrian on an imperial scale in the 2nd century, there are some pharaonic remains, as noted in chapters 20, 21, and 22. In particular a Late Period blue faience ushebti head and an elaborately carved canopic jar of perhaps the 2nd century AD are described and discussed. Recently resumed work on the temple of Ramses II consists, so far, of mapping the surviving remains of the court and hypostyle hall, documenting scattered blocks, including talatat, and a technical analysis of the mortar. Lastly, chapter 27, by Massimo Coli, Gabrielle Pini, and Gloria Rosati, is a most useful geological study of the Antinoopolis area and the limestone caves or quarries in Gebel el-Adila east of the city. Only the 63 caves and quarries closest to Antinoopolis were visited, plotted in large scale with GPS and GIS systems, studied for quarry marks and other extraction practices, measured, and photographed. More quarries were detected on satellite photographs but not field checked. The cave series was further complicated by the fact that some were Middle Kingdom, Late Period, or Ptolemaic tombs, or were reused in the Coptic period. Not surprisingly, given the sudden, enormous need for building stone after Hadrians foundation of Antinoopolis, most of the large caverns are Roman, specifically Hadrian to Diocletian, and show clear evidence of all

312 Reviews stages of systematic, skilled quarrying and block removal and even transport tracks to the Nile. Antinoupolis I succeeds in its goal of making available a large number of preliminary reports. Although they range from exemplary to rough, they present a broad range of new information that should be valuable to Late Antique archaeologists, Greek, Coptic, and Biblical scholars, numismatists, and even those concerned with early Coptic religious practice or economic history. Oriental Institute Carol A. Meyer

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 319-321 Catling, R.W.V., and F. Marchand (eds.), with the assistance of M. Sasanow, Onomatologos: Studies in Greek Personal Names Presented to Elaine Matthews. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2010. xxxiii + 681 pages. ISBN 978-1-84217-982-6. This hefty volume honors the scholar most intimately connected with the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names (LGPN), a project conceived by the late Peter Fraser. After two Proceedings of the British Academy volumes, which she edited (nos. 104 and 148), and the somewhat older work of Friedrich Bechtel, Louis Robert, and Olivier Masson, there remains a very great deal to explain about Greek personal names as they appear in our sources, predominantly Greek inscriptions. The 55 contributions to this Festschrift address many issues left open by previous research. Each is followed by its own bibliography. The volume is, as expected, arranged by geographical regions. Helpful maps (prepared by M. Sasanow) are sprinkled throughout the volume. There are five contributions at the end that do not fit into any particular region (e.g., one on names containing the element -- and what they can tell us about common perceptions of justice: I. Arnaoutoglou, Onomastics and Law: Dike and dike Names, pp. 582-600). The regions included are: the Aegean Islands, Cyprus, Cyrenaica, Athens, Peloponnese, Magna Graecia and Sicily, Dalmatia, Central Greece, Macedonia, the Black Sea and Thrace, Asia Minor, and the Near East. Egypt has not been included. Papyrologists will want to consult this volume mainly through the excellent indices (pp. 647-681), but there are a few nuggets I want to highlight here. Under Aegean Islands figures an interesting contribution on the philosopher Menedemus of Pyrrha, a pupil of Plato (D. Knoepfler, Mndme de Pyrrha, proxne de Delphes. Contribution pigraphique lhistoire dun philosophe et de sa cit, pp. 65-81). In an appendix (pp. 78-80), Knoepfler argues that the Menedemus of Eretria in P.Oxy. 52.3656 is actually a mistake for Menedemus of Pyrrha on Lesbos. Under Cyrenaica figures A New Inscription from Ptolemais in Libya, edited by J. Reynolds (pp. 119-120), unfortunately without a photo. The text of the dedication is printed as follows: [] vac. vacat

320 Reviews The editor dates the inscription to the early third century, invoking the (recent) grant of citizenship by Caracalla to explain the occurrence of the Roman praenomen and gentilicium. A date in the late second century (Marcus Aurelius or Commodus) is of course not excluded.1 The editor wavers with the cognomen (one name or two: and ?). She also has difficulties understanding the meaning of [] in the context of the dedication. I would divide the text differently. could well be a dative ending of a word referring to the god to whom the dedication is made. If we assume an orthographical error in lines 2-3, where stands for perhaps the letter at the end of line 2, being on the edge of the stele, could also be read as an omega, we can read for (or read ), the aorist participle referring to the god who saved the dedicator. This also produces a regular word break between lines 2-3. From the context where the stele was put up it would have been clear which saving god was intended (unless the name of a god in the dative preceded the text, which is not excluded, even if not likely according to the editor). That leaves us with as the cognomen of the dedicator. It seems to be a variant of the name , which is quite common in papyri and inscriptions from later Roman Egypt. The name starts to appear at about the same time as the imperial title Gothicus, which is sometimes spelled , but I do not want to suggest a connection between the name / and the Goths. (I also leave it to others to decide the accentuation of .) The text from Ptolemais in Libya gives a satisfactory sense in the revised reading: () [] I, Marcus Aurelius Gounthas, made the dedication to the god who saved me for having been saved. The juxtaposition of the active and passive aorist participles of the verb seems unique but appropriate. occurs occasionally in other dedicatory inscriptions that do not mention the god by name (e.g., IG 12.5.712.36). Under Peloponnese figures an article by B. Millis on Corinthians in Exile 146-44 BC (pp. 244-257), identified as Corinthians in texts after the sack of Corinth in 146 BC. Some of these resided in Egypt. As did other Greeks whose city was razed to the ground (e.g., Olynthians), Corinthians passed Cf. K. Buraselis, Stray Remarks on Roman Names in Greek Documents, in A.D. Rizakis (ed.), Roman Onomastics in the Greek East: Social and Political Aspects (Athens 1996) 55-63 at 61-63.1

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their citizenship down to their descendants in the (as it turned out, vain) hope of resettling their city (only the Roman colony of 44 BC rendered the old Corinthian identity obsolete). Under Black Sea and Thrace we find a curious article on the name Sebas tianus by D. Dana (La prhistoire du nom de saint Sbastien. Onomastiques en contact, pp. 390-397). Sebastianus, like Sebazianos/Sabazianos, originates in Thrace. In the second and third century all Sebastiani seem to be linked to Thrace, and this could also apply to St. Sebastian. The name Sebastianus starts to appear in papyri only in the fourth century. The following article under Black Sea and Thrace, by L. Dubois, discusses Des anthroponymes en - (pp. 398-421). Generous use is made of the evidence from Egypt, where such names are particularly prevalent. Under Asia Minor, Th. Corsten (names in -, pp. 456-463) argues that Roman names in -ianus do not always denote adoption or filiation. In areas with little understanding for Roman family relations, and this would seem to apply to Roman Egypt as well as Roman Asia Minor , such names were used as a general sign of Romanization. The two editors are to be congratulated with a major addition to our understanding of the ancient world through names. University of Cincinnati Peter van Minnen

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 323-327 Hilla Halla-aho, The Non-Literary Latin Letters: A Study of their Syntax and Pragmatics. Commentationes Humanarum Litterarum 124. Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica, 2009. 189 pages. ISBN 978951-653-363-9. In recent years, several areas of research have been of particular interest to linguists of Greek and Latin: the effects of bilingualism on syntax, the function of particles from the standpoint of pragmatics (the branch of linguistics that deals with how the wider context affects the shaping of an utterance), renewed attempts at understanding word order, and the relationship between written texts and spoken language. This careful study by Halla-aho (henceforth H.) of the non-literary Latin letters (primarily those of Claudius Terentianus and the Vindolanda tablets, though she also draws on the full range of material in CEL 1 and 2) lies at the intersection of all of these issues.1 While her discussion is perhaps not as conclusive as one might wish, she always gives due attention to the numerous variables that might account for the divergences between the language of these letters and that of Classical Latin (CL) prose, and anyone interested in the word order of Latin that does not have the stylistic ambition of a Ciceronian oration will want to look closely at the examples she has culled. The first three chapters all provide the necessary background for understanding the nature of the documents with which H. is dealing. In Chapter 1, she offers a general overview of the non-literary letters, the extent of her corpus, and a basic survey of the types of linguistic evidence the letters provide. As to the vexed question of whose language is actually represented in the letters that of the letter-sender or the scribe H. believes that in most cases it is the former, pointing out the correction in a second hand in T.Vindol. 2.218. In the next chapter, H. turns to the theoretical questions that complicate the discussion of these texts: the difficulty of defining Vulgar Latin (VL) (a term that H., like many, avoids, preferring to highlight variation in spoken and written language instead of a simplistic dichotomy between CL and VL), and the fact that register is a variable that operates independently of the spokenwritten1 As one would expect, the works of J.N. Adams are prominent in H.s bibliography (e.g. The Vulgar Latin of the Letters of Claudius Terentianus [Manchester 1977], Bilingualism and the Latin Language [Cambridge (not Oxford, as in H.s book) 2003], The Regional Diversification of Latin 200 BC AD 600 [Cambridge 2007]); so too linguistic scholarship of the Functional Grammar school from the Low Countries (e.g. the works of A.M. Bolkestein, D.G.J. Panhuis, and H. Pinkster). The flourishing state of the study of non-literary Greek and Latin can be seen in the range of topics covered in the recent volume edited by T.A. Evans and D. Obbink, The Language of the Papyri (Oxford 2010), to which H. has also contributed.

324 Reviews divide. A non-literary text, like a contract, can in fact be more removed from everyday speech than a literary one, so one must be wary of assuming that any given feature of these letters is to be considered a colloquialism rather than a stereotypical characteristic of letter-writing. Accordingly, in the third chapter, H. sets out the conventions of letter phraseology, from the opening address and salutations, through to the closing, contrasting in particular the practices of Greek and Latin letters. As it turns out, the Latin letters from Egypt, influenced as they are by Greek, favor longer formulae. In Chapter 4, H. addresses the first of the three major topics covered in the book, sentence connection, particularly from the perspective of comparing written and spoken language. She begins with a section on the connective particles found in the letters, particularly et and item, which (unlike autem) take on uses foreign to CL. While et often has its familiar function as a connector that links the various stages of a narrative (and then), it can also introduce a new topic, a use not found in the standard grammars or TLL . Similarly, item can connect one clause to another even when the two do not share any common elements; in other words, it is not so much likewise as then. H. then turns to asyndetic constructions, often found in the non-literary letters where we might otherwise expect a consecutive particle like igitur or a causal one like nam or enim. (In fact, nam does not occur in Terentianus or the Vindolanda tablets at all.) But what accounts for this asyndeton? Is it a feature of spoken language, or of epistolary style? H. is rightly skeptical of the commonly expressed view, no doubt too simplistic, that languages invariably develop from paratactic to hypotactic and that asyndeton, to the extent that it is simpler than explicit coordination, must be a feature of colloquial language. Indeed, that writing is a comparatively cumbersome medium might well lead one to eschew unnecessary words, and H. accordingly leans towards seeing asyndeton as characteristic of written language. Still, she could perhaps have done more to argue against the view, which she herself notes, that the presence of asyndeton in several different sources generally associated with colloquialisms might instead incline us towards associating it with spoken syntax. The other major section in this chapter deals with paratactic complements after verbs of speech, where the same big-picture issues arise. The construction in which rogo is followed directly by a subjunctive (i.e. without ut to mark the subordination explicitly) has usually been seen as paratactic in origin and, as such, a colloquial feature of the letters. Yet the Vindolanda tablets and Claudius Tiberianus, supposedly closer to standard Latin, prefer the construction without ut, while Terentianus and Rustius Barbarus, whose language diverges more from the norm, exclusively use the construction with ut. In H.s view, the factor that correlates more closely with the presence of ut is a high level of complex-

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ity in the subordinate clause: rogo with the bare subjunctive is preferred with simpler predications in which the subordinate verb is close to the main verb. The fifth chapter looks at a related problem syntactic incoherence in the letters and, as befits the subject matter, is something of a catch-all, covering contamination (in which two different constructions are imperfectly welded into one), a case study on the letter of Chrauttius (T.Vindol. 2.310), the confusion of si quod and si quid, and erroneous personal pronoun reference in indirect speech. But the bulk of the chapter deals with the extension of the accusative to constructions not found in CL. In one group of examples, we see the deterioration of the ablative absolute: the ablative is maintained in the participle, but the subject noun is in the accusative. In another passage, Terentianus uses an adjective to modify the subject of the clause, but because intervening constituents have broken up the flow of the syntax, he chooses the accusative rather than the nominative. But, drawing on Functional Grammar, with its concern for the information status of the nouns of a clause, H. focuses on pendens constructions in which the writer announces the so-called theme of the clause in advance of the predication proper with an accusative that is roughly equivalent to English as for, or CL de + ablative. The pragmatic environments that give rise to such constructions are particularly common in letters, where writers often need to address several unrelated points in quick succession. At times, such an accusative is motivated by the syntax of the rest of the sentence (and thus can be classified as a proleptic accusative: me pernosti qualis sim [Ter. Andr. 503]), but H. argues that in later Latin this construction is increasingly found where the choice of the accusative is most easily explained as due to its status as a default case. Although a clearer methodology for assigning the accusatives in question to these various categories and a more transparent presentation of the growing use of the accusative would have been welcome, it is, on the whole, reasonable of H. to suggest that, while some such syntactic incoherence is caused by incompetence at producing the complex linguistic structures found in writing, some simply reflects the reality of spoken language. In the next chapter, H. looks at the light that the non-literary letters can shed on the workings of Latin word order, exploring the tension between syntactic factors (is there a shift from subject-object-verb (SOV) to subject-verbobject (SVO) as the default order?) and pragmatic ones (is the information status of a noun, e.g. as a given topic, the best predictor of where it will occur in the clause?). An initial survey of the leading syntactic accounts shows just how problematic it is to describe Latin as SOV or SVO. Some data suggest that there is a trend away from verb-final ordering: SOV is generally more common in presumably more conservative legal and religious texts and in the higher-

326 Reviews register sections of Plautus (so J.N. Adams in Indogermanische Forschungen 81, 1976, 7099), and the fact that the noun-genitive and noun-adjective orderings common in Latin are generally not found in OV languages suggests that the underlying order has already switched to VO. But the overall picture remains so fluid (even within the single genre of historical narrative, Caesar prefers castra ponere and aciem instruere, Livy the reverse, as shown by A.M. Devine and L.D. Stephens, Latin Word Order [Oxford 2006] 125-127) that a straightforward syntactic account simply cannot explain everything. That said, there are gains to be made by looking at the VO : OV ratios in the letters. Adams had already noted the preponderance of VO ordering in Terentianus (universal in subordinate clauses) as evidence that Latin had already become an SVO language. But one also has to compare this to the Vindolanda tablets, which still favor SOV. Is this because they had a higher standard of Latin there? Or because interference from Greek encouraged the VO order in Terentianus Latin? There are further complications as well: might the different content of the Egyptian letters have favored a different word order? Clauses of the shape misi tibi X tend to prefer VO order, as do those with heavier object constituents. It remains unclear from H.s account exactly how much weight should be ascribed to each of these factors (there are perhaps too many, given the relatively small size of the corpus, to arrive at a definitive answer), but one useful contrast does point in the direction that H. takes in the rest of the chapter. Most of the misi-constructions at Vindolanda (6x) have everyday items as the object, and they follow the verb; however, in the three examples where the object precedes the verb, it is soldiers that are sent. H. plausibly attributes the differing word orders to the contrasting pragmatic role of the object in the two types of clauses. When the object is inanimate, that is where the focus of the clause lies (i.e., it is the salient new information; the sentence answers the question What have you sent?), whereas the animate objects are topical (i.e., they are already in play in the conversation and are what the clause is about), and it is a direction constituent that is focalized (the sentence answers the question Where have you sent the soldiers?). If we postulate that the focus is placed relatively late in the clause, then the distribution of the two orderings makes sense. Furthermore, the pattern of placing the topic first, then the focus, is paralleled in other languages.2 It is also a powerful enough force to pull forward even relatively heavy constituents, which otherwise gravitate to the end of the clause. Still, as often happens with pragmatic accounts of word order, there are some potentially worrying counter-examples: unlike syntactic roles like sub2 See in particular the account of Greek word order in H. Diks Word Order in Greek Tragic Dialogue (Oxford 2007).

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ject and object, pragmatic functions are not very discrete, and sometimes one gets the impression that it is a little too easy to explain away difficult clauses with ad hoc factors. We learn, for example, that while some focal elements go after the verb, others (especially negatives) are found in the initial position in the clause. What is more, topics are not restricted to an early slot, but can also be post-verbal. By the time she gets to the conclusion of the chapter, H. has introduced some refinements to the model which reduce the number of problematic examples: it is new topics that are pre-verbal, while continued topics are post-verbal; contrastive focal elements tend to go first, while weak focal elements are post-verbal. But these features are not incorporated as systematically into the discussion as are the broader categories of topic and focus, making the chapter less persuasive than it might otherwise have been. The general feeling that the argumentation is not as tight as one would like is reinforced by the tentative nature of many of the conclusions that H. draws. Much of this is of course proper scholarly prudence many of these issues are hardly settled for the much more voluminous writings of the major prose authors. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disappointing that clearer answers are not given to the question of how much the difference in word order seen at Vindolanda and in Egypt is due to geographical variation, social variation, or a mixture of the two. With respect to several different features, H. highlights the fact that the Vindolanda tablets are closer to standard CL than the Egyptian documents are; one guiding principle that could have given the book more direction would have been a more consistent orientation to discussing the extent to which this description on its own is a sufficient parameter to characterize these two corpora differentially. None of these criticisms, however, should obscure the overall accomplishment of H.s work. Together with copious bibliography (and, though it seems patronizing to point it out, meticulous English), it offers a useful compilation of data and observations about the interaction of syntax and pragmatics in these important texts; anyone interested in the relationship between spoken and written Latin will find it a valuable collection of evidence for the linguistic variation that existed in these speech communities. University of Virginia Coulter H. George

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 329-333 Silvia Strassi, Larchivio di Claudius Tiberianus da Karanis. Archiv fr Papyrusforschung, Beiheft 26). Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 2008. xlix + 194 pages. ISBN 978-3-11-020119-2. This volume presents and argues for significant reinterpretations of an archive of letters from second-century Karanis, discovered together in a niche under the stairs of a large house. The archive is bound together by the person of Claudius Tiberianus, a speculator in the Roman army and very likely the occupant of the house where the papyri were found, although the author of most of the letters is Claudius Terentianus, first a sailor in the Alexandrian fleet and then a soldier in an unnamed legion. At first glance the book appears to be intended as a republication of the archive, but that is not exactly the case. Except for a few readings (discussed below), the text is taken from earlier editions, and there are no line notes. Moreover, as Strassi points out, there are unpublished papyri from the same find still awaiting editing (Arthur Verhoogt has provided her with information about these, which is cited from time to time). A full papyrological edition of the archive is thus still to be awaited. The volume consists of a short introduction, a massive bibliography, texts with Italian translation and footnotes, an index to the texts, followed by four chapters with a brief conclusion, an appendix broadly rejecting the connection of SB 6.9636 with the archive, and indexes to the volume (that is, to the introduction and the chapters). The substance of the volume is in the four chapters, in which Strassi considers the Schreibort of the letters, their dates, the families of Tiberianus and Terentianus, and their friends. The texts serve mainly to save the reader from having to consult the original publication by H.C. Youtie and J.G. Winter in P.Mich. 8 (1951).1 The archive is well known, because seven of the letters are written in Latin and compose one of the most important and coherent groups of letters in that language.2 Strassis interest in this archive, however, is not linguistic but historical. It began with her work on Sokrates son of Sarapion, the tax collector.3 From that basis it extended more generally to second-century society in Karanis. She found the prevailing interpretations of the letters to Tiberianus, mostly from Terentianus, unsatisfying. That dissatisfaction, as we shall see, centers1 Which, as Strassi points out, ignored the archaeological context of the archive, as with the rest of the Karanis papyri in the Michigan collection published in that era. 2 The introduction discusses this literature briefly; cf. also the review of Strassis book by J. Kramer, APF 54 (2008) 248-251. 3 Le carte di , a Karanis nel II sec. d. C., Atti del XXII Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia (Florence 2001) 2:1215-1228.

330 Reviews on the relationship of the two men. Tiberianus is consistently addressed by Terentianus as his father, and despite the ambiguities of family terminology in the papyri, most readers of the archive have concluded that the term is to be taken literally here. Not so Strassi, and much of the rest of the book flows from her disagreement with the general consensus on this point. The Latin texts are drawn from Cugusis C.Epist.Lat., the Greek avowedly from the Duke Databank of Documentary Papyri, or, perhaps more accurately, from the original editions as emended since publication.4 The palaeographic descriptions of the Latin texts are drawn from ChLA, those of the Greek texts from the first edition. In the reedition of P.Mich. 8.476 as no. 11 here (p. 47), new readings are (exceptionally) offered in three lines. One of these involves for in line 7, which, to judge from the digital photo, looks possible (although there is space for Youtie and Winters iota). The readings for the in lines 9 and 10 are not convincing. In line 9, Strassi reads editors . This runs up against the open space between alpha and rho, and a ductus that is not (to my eyes) compatible with an alpha-rho ligature. In line 10, she suggests for the editors . The latter is doubtful, and (as Strassi points out, p. 48, n. 86) Youtie himself called it into question very strongly. But there is clearly a character between epsilon and tau, compatible with iota. This cannot be reconciled with Strassis proposed reading. The first letter of the word looks like beta to me, but I cannot find a solution. The dating of the letters is far from easy. The starting point for the editors was an indication that Terentianus was about to be sent to Syria shortly after entering the fleet. The editors suggested that this was ca. 115, in connection with the Jewish revolt. Strassi suggests Trajans Syrian campaign of 114 as a more likely occasion, largely because there is no evidence for naval involvement in suppression of the Jewish revolt, which in any case was not in Syria. This seems plausible. But the perennial methodological problem of interpret The DDBDP in its current form does not claim to be a critical edition; at best it incorporates corrections from the BL. It is a misuse of this indispensable tool to cut and paste its texts as if they were the equivalent of a critical edition. See P. van Minnen in R.S. Bagnall (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology (Oxford and New York 2009) 650-651. It is also disconcerting to find the DDBDP and APIS cited as sources or authorities for provenance and date; the information there comes in most cases from the published editions, occasionally from later scholarship. More importantly, these tools are not stable referents, being subject to updating. At a minimum, one must cite the date of consultation of digital works. Another doubtful use of digital technology occurs at p. 39, n. 68, where a long list of patristic passages concerning the Biblical story of the resuscitation of Tabitha by Peter (Acts 9:36-40) is given. It is hard to see the point of what looks like a dump of hits in the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. It contributes nothing to the discussion of the name Tabetheus.4

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ing letters must be recognized. They almost always operate at a different level from the history of politics and wars, and it is rare that we can really be sure what they refer to. Terentianus ship might have been dispatched to Syria for some far less momentous reason that we will never recover.5 On the other hand, two of the letters speak of Terentianus involvement in trying to restore order to Alexandria, and connecting this with the Jewish revolt is likely to be right. Two papyri (14 and 15) mention the procuratorial dioiketes and thus are not likely to be earlier than the accession of Hadrian. Overall, Strassi thinks, the letters date roughly to the period 110-115 and the following years, when Tiberianus lived probably in Karanis. It is possible that 16 dates after his death. Much of the discussion of the family is devoted, as has already been mentioned, to attempting to undermine the view that Terentianus was the son of Tiberianus, in favor of the Ptolemaios mentioned in two letters also with the term father. The argument has been analyzed in detail by J. Kramer (above, n. 2), who rejects it. I will not repeat Kramers points (with which I agree) here, but it is worth stressing two points in the debate. First, Strassi argues essentially that Terentianus was an upwardly mobile Greek of Egypt, for whom Latin was not his first language, and that he was not a Roman citizen by birth. The latter may well have been true, but her view that he would have acquired citizenship at or after entry into the legion, through grant of it to him as a soldier, is doubtful. Where would he have acquired the nomen Claudius in this period? Much more likely, his citizenship stems ultimately from an action taken to the benefit of an ancestor under Claudius or Nero. It thus seems perverse to deny that Tiberianus is likely to be the source. Certainly Terentianus may have used his nomen informally, before actual grant of citizenship, in these letters, and he might have become a citizen only when Tiberianus was discharged and obtained retrospective conubium and the citizenship for his children. The other point, however, which may cut against this, even if inconclusively, is the use of in the address of P.Mich. 8.479 (14). All but two letters are dotted, to be sure, but it is not easy to find a better reading. The word is not often used in family letters, but it is not unknown in connection with terms of relationship.6 The remainder of the family discussion explores other possible connections, all to some degree through the lens of the hypothesis that Tiberianus is The other major chronological pillar has been the appearance of a newly-veteran Terentianus in SB 6.9636 (here no. 18), from 136 CE. But there are reasons, as Strassi argues, to be doubtful that this is the Claudius Terentianus of the Tiberianus archive, and if so, that pointer to an enlistment date around 111 vanishes. 6 Already in H. Koskenniemi, Studien zur Idee und Phraseologie des griechischen Briefes bis 400 n. Chr. (Helsinki 1956) 102-103, noting the absence of from family letters, but citing exceptions to that rule.5

332 Reviews not the father of Terentianus. Much of this is helpful regardless of ones view of that question, but at times the will to identify individuals is taken too far. An example is Taeis, the author of P.Mich. 8.510. Strassi suggests identification of this person with a woman mentioned in the will of Marcus Sempronius Priscus, ChLA 10.412. But this refers to the woman as Thaisan, the accusative of Thaisas (the hypocoristic of Thaisarion). It is idle to speculate Che la stessa Thais fosse lautrice della lettera trovata nellarchivio di Tiberianus, resta un ipotesi che non si pu dimostrare n negare precisamente date le scarse attestatizioni del nome et lidentit dellambiente sociale di Karanis in cui i documenti si collocano. The discussion of extra-familial friends mentioned in the correspondence is, of necessity, still less conclusive. Probably the most valuable discussion is that of Longinus Priscus, who appears in P.Mich. 8.472, from Tiberius to Priscus (it is doubtful that this is a copy, as Strassi claims; it has an address on the verso). She notes the presence of a C. Longinus Priscus in the second-century Arsinoite in various documents, including the will of M. Sempronius Priscus. One of these attestations is of a person who became an Antinoite citizen. She is attracted by the possibility of identifying at least some of these with one another and with the figure in the Tiberianus archive. On the other hand, her speculations on language in this section are more than dubious. Se il greco fosse stato, come pare probabile, la prima lingua di Tiberianus, si potrebbe supporre che avesse avuto in mente lespressione e lavesse semplicemente voluta riprodurre in latino (154). She is referring to the Latin domin[o] et regi suo in the opening greetings of this letter. On the contrary: these expressions in Greek are derived from Latin usage,7 and it is nothing short of perverse to use such an expression as an argument in favor of the priority of Greek in Tiberianus linguistic background. The appendix on SB 6.9636 argues that it was attributed to Karanis only on the basis of the supposed identity of the Terentianus mentioned there with Claudius Terentianus. That is perhaps an exaggeration; many papyri acquired by the papyrus cartel led by H.I. Bell in the early 1920s in fact came from Karanis. Curiously, in discussing attestations of the name Terentianus, Strassi does not mention the Iulius Terentianus of P.Mich. 8.464 (AD 99, Karanis), who is a good deal more germane to the question than the documents she does cite. (This papyrus does not appear at all in the index of sources.) The greatest value of this book, in my view, is in its attempts to open up the possibility of reconstructing family archives from the second-century Karanis papyri that do not come from the Michigan excavations but through the7 See E. Dickey, , , domine: Greek politeness in the Roman Empire, JHS 121 (2001) 1-11.

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antiquities trade. This is a difficult art, involving many uncertainties and often a hint of possibilities rather than the satisfying interlocking of pieces of secure evidence. A lot more museum archaeology lies before the practitioner of this art. But the combination of the securely provenanced papyri from the excavations with these unprovenanced texts can yield progress. As will be obvious, I am not persuaded by some of the interpretations put forward in this book, but I hope it will be a fruitful opening up of a large area of research. New York University Roger S. Bagnall

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 335-338 Sarah J.K. Pearce, The Land of the Body: Studies in Philos Representation of Egypt. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 208. Tbingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007. xxviii + 365 pages. ISBN10: 3-16-149250-1, ISBN-13: 978-3-16-149250-1. Of the many Greek authors who wrote about Egypt, Philo is especially interesting because of his privileged position as an inhabitant of Alexandria and a member of the Jewish community there under Roman rule. As one of the most important interpreters of the Septuagint and reader in the synagogue of Alexandria, Philo had two mental images of Egypt at his disposal: the Egypt where he was living and the Egypt of the Torah. To understand his take on either image we need to know how each influenced the other. There is an important difference between the exegetical writings of Philo and the so-called historical treatises (Legatio ad Gaium and In Flaccum). In the latter, one finds the real face of Philo and his actual relation to the Egypt he had daily contact with. His is the only witness of the first pogrom against the Jewish community of Alexandria. In an attempt to prove the providence of God to his people, Philo attacks the Egyptian mob. His contempt for it is also noticeable in his interpretation of Egyptian elements in the Pentateuch. This book offers a complete analysis of each and every aspect of Egypt in Philos writings. The book is organised into eight chapters, the first of them Philos Contexts. A complete analysis of the historical background of Philo helps the reader understand the peculiar situation of the philosopher and the historical events which took place in his lifetime and were probably very influential in the development of his thought. Also in the first chapter, there is an analysis of his intellectual background, his audience, his writings, and his allegorical and philosophical method. Chapter 2, entitled Egyptians in Philos world, is well constructed and fully documented. Here the author deals with one of the Egypts mentioned above, the Egypt in which Philo lived and the contemporary historical situation. Though brief, there is a discussion of Philos criticism of the Egyptian population, defined as snobbish contempt, and his position is analysed against the background of other authors. It is very interesting to understand the point of view of the authors of antiquity in their evaluation of reality. In this case, Philo is a representative of a community in great trouble, and as an ambassador to the emperor Caligula, he reports as an upper class witness. He belongs to a tradition which cultivated contempt for the Egyptians and everything Egyptian, but his position makes him one of the most interesting figures in this tradition.

336 Reviews The analysis of the background includes other literary sources for this period, such as Strabos description of Egypt in his seventeenth book, and documentary sources, such as papyri. The latter prove that the contempt for Egyptians and everything Egyptian also existed among the Hellenised or Romanised population of Egypt and was not just a literary topos. The author also analyses the evolution over time of the stereotype of Egyptians as deceitful or envious. One would have wished for a more extensive review of papyrological evidence for the viewpoint of the Egyptians themselves, but this is not the main topic of the book. However, it could have provided a more balanced background to Philos position, not as a member of the Jewish community, but as an upper class Alexandrian. The third chapter, Egypt, Land of the Body, deals with Philos interpretation of Egypt within the framework of his philosophical and exegetical method: this time Biblical Egypt. The author carefully explains how Philo comes to the interpretation of Egypt as a symbol of the body, and how everything fits into his Biblical interpretation. Every aspect of Egypt, the Nile, the Egyptian population, etc., has a place in the journey of the soul towards perfection, in its migration from the body and the material world. Chapter four, Egyptians as Symbols, deals with the Egyptians of the Pentateuch. While Egyptians such as Helikon, the despicable freedman of Caligula who poisoned the emperors mind against the Jews, were the root of all evil in the historical treatises, the Egyptian characters in the Bible hold a more dignified position in Philos allegory, but are still characterised as unable to see God and used as a contrast to a superior value. Since Egypt is the symbol of the body, and Philo allegorizes it as a period of exile or a stage in the journey of the soul towards perfection, all Egyptian characters are interpreted by him as representative of the lower stages of this journey and consequently much inferior to the Patriarchs and the perfected souls. Pharaoh, to whom an extensive analysis is dedicated in this chapter, is characterised as a scatterer, a self-lover, over proud, and most interestingly, as an atheist. The analysis is undertaken in a constant dialogue with the text of the Bible and the likely influences on Philos views, which brings out his original points. Chapter 5, Wicked Hosts and Perfect Guests, deals with Philos treatment of hospitality and the tradition of considering Egyptians as inhospitable. Philo goes further than any other author in characterizing Egyptians thus and contrasts their inhospitality to the perfect hospitality of Abraham and his descendants. Chapters 6, Egyptian Atheism: Philo on the Nile, 7 Animal Worship in Philos World, and 8, Philo on Egyptian Animal Worship, deal with Philos views on Egyptian religion. The author offers an extremely interesting analysis

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of the most characteristic of Egypts cultural manifestations and the one that attracted the most curiosity from other ancient peoples: animal worship. Philos final verdict on Egyptian religion is that in every aspect it has to be considered atheism. The analysis opens with an attack on the veneration of the Nile, an attack in which Philo distances himself from the general popularity of devotion to the river. There is no tradition, Greek or Jewish, of contempt for this. Considering Egyptian animal cult as an abomination is, on the other hand, no new development in Philo. Chapter 7 provides us with an analysis of the most representative Greek and Roman authors as well as the Jewish tradition, both earlier and contemporary to Philo, on Egyptian religion. Both their general contempt for this cult and their occasional rationalisation of it find a place in this chapter. Some authors traced the origin of an animal cult to the fact that animals, such as the ox and the ram, were useful to the Egyptians (Plutarch). Against this, Philo points to the devotion to such useless animals as the crocodile. In the following chapter, the author begins by analyzing Philos consideration of animals as irrational creatures, against the background of Aristotle, the Epicureans, and the Stoics. Animals were created to serve the rational creatures, humans, and were thus inferior to them (so De Animalibus). In De Vita Contemplativa the point is made that animal cult is the opposite of true piety as represented by the contemplatives who worship the Supreme Being. Philo undoubtedly belongs to the negative tradition about animal worship. What is innovative in Philo is his analysis: the cult of irrational creatures and the created in general is the reversal of natural order. It is interesting to see how Philo uses the animal cult to attack idolatry and ultimately the worship of the golden calf (De Decalogo). Philo interprets the golden calf as a symbol of the body, i.e. Egypt. When worshipping the calf, the soul drops to the level of the body. Here one sees how Philo inserts his attack on Egyptian religion into his interpretation of the journey of the soul. Animal cult is for blind people who live in Egypt, who fail to see God. In the episode of the golden calf we see how Egyptian animal worship has become a symbol of acting in blindness, of a perversion of the natural order, by placing what is inferior above its superior. To sum up, this book is a very full and well structured study about Philos view of Egypt and all things Egyptian. It is extensively documented and covers aspects not only of Philos philosophy and allegorical commentaries, but also of his historical background, his political activity. It makes a wonderful introduction to Philo and his works, as interesting for scholars of philosophy and literature as for historians and papyrologists interested in Roman Egypt. If I had to express something other than the satisfaction I felt when reading this

338 Reviews book, I would have preferred the Hebrew words in transliteration, especially in the part about etymological interpretation, since many classical scholars who are interested in Philo are not familiar with Hebrew script. But this is a small detail that in no way detracts from this excellent book. CSIC, Madrid Sofa Torallas Tovar

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 339-340 Peter Arzt-Grabner, Ruth Elisabeth Kritzer, Amphilochios Papathomas, and Franz Winter, with two contributions by Michael Ernst, with the assistance of Gnther Schwab and Andreas Bammer, 1. Korinther. Papyrologische Kommentare zum Neuen Testament 2. Gttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 2006. 576 pages. ISBN 9783-525-51001-8. More than a century ago Adolf Deissmann first published his influential Licht vom Osten. Das Neue Testament und die neuentdeckten Texte der hellenistisch-rmischen Welt (1908), which brought recently discovered papyri and inscriptions to bear on the understanding of the literary and social history of early Christians. A decade later James Moulton and George Milligan began publishing fascicles of their The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament Illustrated from the Papyri and Other Non-Literary Sources (as a single volume: 1930), which, by situating early Christian Greek in the context of the vernacular of the Hellenistic period, effectively put to rest the notion that the language of the New Testament was the language of the Holy Ghost. Since that time it has been a challenge for scholars of early Christianity to keep track of the virtual flood of finds of papyri and their publication. An Australian project led by G.H.R. Horsley and latterly by S.R. Llewelyn, New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity (1981-) continues to publish a small selection of papyrological and epigraphical documents with potential bearing on early Christian language and social forms. The volume under review can be viewed as the fruit of a century of papyrological research, but instead of being organized as a lexicon or as an anthology of papyri, the Papyrologischer Kommentar is framed as a verse-by-verse commentary that uses evidence from documentary papyri to clarify matters of lexicography, formulaic speech, and legal and social issues. It is, of course, much more ambitious than the first volume in the series, on Philemon, which at 336 words is more comparable in typical length to many papyrus letters than is 1 Corinthians 2889 words. And unlike the first volume, Philemon (2003), which was the work of Peter Arzt-Grabner, the second volume is a collaborative effort between Arzt-Grabner and three other scholars, including Amphilochios Papathomas, whose complementary study Juristische Begriffe im ersten Korintherbrief des Paulus. Eine semantisch-lexikalische Untersuchung auf der Basis der zeitgenssischen griechischen Papyri (2009) has just been published. The commentary offers both a careful almost exhaustive analysis of the vocabulary of 1 Corinthians, citing more than 3300 papyrus texts. For example, Arzt-Grabner and his collaborators adduce BGU 14.2376.2 (36/5 BCE), [ ] and CPR 7.1.3 (7-4 BCE):

340 Reviews [] [] as formulae comparable to in 1 Cor. 1:2. Kritzer notes the juridical connotation of in 1 Cor. 7:10, citing Papathomas study (above), but the commentary also notes when certain lexemes () and expressions ( , in the context of divorce) are not attested in papyri. While a few papyri are cited in full P.Ryl. 2.154 (pp. 248-250) on , and BGU 4.1103 (p. 268), a document of divorce the normal format is to quote a few lines from relevant papyri to illustrate verbal usage or examples of the practice in question. The commentary also includes thirteen excurses on secretaries and scribes, architects, the unmarried and widows, divorce, manumission, freedmen, the freeborn, virgins, labor in vineyards, Paul as a preacher of the gospel (Verwalterttigkeit vs. Zwangsliturgie), hair styles, appeals to nature, and teachers. While Arzt-Grabner and his collaborators are not always able to find parallels to Pauls usages, the papyrological commentary illustrates the extent to which his language shares the koine of documentary papyri and how most of the topics, metaphors, and practices discussed in 1 Corinthians can be helpfully contextualized by reference to documentary papyri. The Papyrologische Kommentare will certainly not replace more traditional commentaries on New Testament writings, but they will provide the resources for re-thinking many issues which hitherto have been considered only (or principally) in light of literary texts produced by Greek and Roman elites. It may be that in the future, thanks to the existence of this commentary series, scholars of Christian origins will routinely incorporate parallels from documentary papyri into their commentaries and monographs. At present, however, that is only rarely the case. The result of such neglect is that the language, religious beliefs, and social and economic practices of the majority of the ancient population is not taken fully into account. The Papyrologische Kommentare are an important, even crucial, step in redressing this neglect. University of Toronto John S. Kloppenborg

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 341-346 David C. Parker, An Introduction to the New Testament Manuscripts and Their Texts. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008. xxx + 368 pages. ISBN 978-0-521-89553-8 (hardback) and 978-0-521-71989-6 (paperback). David Parker is exceptionally qualified to write an introduction to New Testament textual criticism. The author of numerous important books in the field, notably on the Greek-Latin Gospel manuscript Codex Bezae and on the textual transmission of the canonical gospels, director of the Institute for Textual Scholarship and Electronic Editing (ITSEE) and co-editor of the International Greek New Testament Project (IGNTP), Parker has now given us his approach to the textual criticism of the New Testament (henceforth NT).1 The title encapsulates Parkers distinct approach. In comparison to the two best and most used introductions to NT textual criticism available in English, both entitled The Text of the New Testament, Parker named his book New Testament Manuscripts and Their Text.2 This emphasis on manuscripts makes the book also of interest to papyrologists, used to working with manuscripts in all their facets. Readers will find a wealth of information in this handbook. In the Introduction, Parker expresses his aim in writing it: to communicate the excitement of research in this field, the achievements of past and modern scholarship, the beauty and fascination of manuscripts, the intellectual challenges of textual criticism, the opportunities for research, and the significance of what we are doing for colleagues working in other fields of NT study, history and theology, as well as for the criticism of other texts (2). Indeed, the ensuing chapters convey Parkers passion and communicate the significance of this particular field of scholarly inquiry.

1 For instance: Codex Bezae: An Early Christian Manuscript and Its Text (Cambridge 1992), The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge 1997), and publications emanating from the IGNT project: W.J. Elliott and D.C. Parker (eds.), The New Testament in Greek IV. The Gospel According to St John, Edited by the American and British Committees of the International Greek New Testament Project, vol. I: The Papyri (Leiden 1995), and U.B. Schmid, W.J. Elliott, and D.C. Parker (eds.), The New Testament in Greek IV. The Gospel According to St John, Edited by the American and British Committees of the International Greek New Testament Project, vol. II: The Majuscules (Leiden 2007). 2 K. Aland and B. Aland, The Text of the New Testament: An Introduction to the Critical Editions and to the Theory and Practice of Modern Textual Criticism (Grand Rapids 1987), and B.M. Metzger and B.D. Ehrman, The Text of the New Testament: Its Transmission, Corruption, and Restoration, 4th ed. (New York 2005).

342 Reviews The book has eleven chapters, arranged in three parts: I. The Documents, II. Textual Criticism and Editions, and III. The Sections of the New Testament. Some remarks about the physical format of this book are in place. Instead of footnotes, Parker provides references to literature and additional explanations in smaller print in the text. The book contains helpful charts but no pictures; the reader can, however, access images of manuscripts, editions, and charts on the books website hosted by Cambridge University Press. The website also features a list with URLs of sites mentioned in the book. Parker devotes Part I (chapters 1 to 3) to manuscripts as artifacts, or documents, as he calls them. I should note that, contrary to papyrological parlance, Parker applies the word document to literary manuscripts (see explanation on pages 2-4). In the first chapter, one finds a discussion on the Christian preference for books in codex format, illustrated with descriptions of several important manuscripts (with pictures on the website): for instance, papyrus codex P.Bodmer 2 (P66) of ca. 200 and Codex Sinaiticus. After a section on palaeography and its aim of deciphering and dating a manuscript, Parker addresses the four categories of NT manuscripts: 1) papyri, 2) majuscules, 3) minuscules, and 4) lectionaries. All NT manuscripts are divided in one of these categories with a distinct number. A section on the history of the classification explains the genesis of this rather cumbersome fourfold organization. In this system, papyri, in the narrow definition of the word of manuscripts written on papyrus, receive a number preceded by the letter P: P1, P2, etc. One needs to consult the appendices in critical editions of the NT or the online edition of the Kurzgefasste Liste to find the bibliographical information. The recent edition of P.Oxy. 74 brings the number of NT papyri to 127. Parker provides the readers with the bibliographical tools for the study of Greek, Latin, Syriac, Coptic and bilingual NT manuscripts. Most of the thousands of NT manuscripts contain only a subset of writings (they form the topic of Part III); here Parker limits his discussion to the sixty-one extant manuscripts with the entire NT, characterizing them as luxury copies that went out of production when high quality, thin parchment became unavailable. In chapter 2, Parker guides the reader through the practical process of collating a manuscript. It contains a useful checklist on how to describe a manuscript when visiting a library (91-94) and advice on making paper and electronic collations. Chapter 3 provides information and scholarly tools on three other types of witness: 1) NT quotations in patristic writings, 2) translations (Parker discusses the Latin, Syriac, Coptic, Armenian, Georgian, Ethiopic, Arabic, Slavonic, Gothic, and other versions), and 3) NT quotations in such varied forms as prayers, magical papyri, and inscriptions. For each of these, Parker

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carefully evaluates their relevance for the NT text. Referring to amulets, he observes that these artifacts may represent the closest most people came to the Scriptures (126). Part II, Textual Criticism and Editions (chapters 4-6), moves from manuscripts as artifacts to their text. In chapter 4, Parker probes how scribes worked and how accurately. Through examples of texts copied from known exemplars (Codex Mediolanensis, Family 1), Parker discusses the number and kinds of changes that copyists introduced. Corrections provide another view onto scribal activity. According to Parker, based on a study of manuscripts of the Gospel of John, the numerical average between all the manuscripts is 5.64 corrections per thousand words (146). He notes that many corrections are relatively minor or serve to facilitate reading and that most scribes apparently did not check their own work (146). He concludes: By and large, there are not many corrections in any one manuscript, yet when we put even so historically insignificant a number as a thousand manuscripts together, a good three quarters of the text has been corrected at some point (148). Contrary to Bart Ehrmans influential arguments in The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, Parker downplays possibility of scribes changing the content of the text intentionally (153).3 The question of whether scribes wrote to dictation (perhaps dictation to one scribe) or visually remains undecided, according to Parker. In Chapter 5, Parker deals with textual criticism, defined as the analysis of variant readings in order to determine in what sequence they arose (159). He surveys the history of scholarship from Karl Lachmann, to quantitative analyses, stemmatics, and, based in electronic databases, the coherence-based genealogical method. Electronic based methods now cause scholars to abandon the problematic notion of geographical text-types (Alexandrian, Caesarean, Western, and Byzantine) and establish new ways of describing the relations between manuscripts and the history of the text. For Parker, editing a text means first establishing a textual history and then coming to a critical edition, presenting a form of text from which all other forms of text are descended (180). He points out the wider significance of textual criticism for historical disciplines, exegesis, theology, and even the world, exhorting scholars in the Quran and Hebrew Bible to also work critically with manuscripts and the transmission of their texts (189-190). In the end, Parker considers textual criticism as a guard against religious fundamentalism: Textual criticism both by its nature and by its findings shows fundamentalism to be inadmissible, and has an important role to play in offering an alternative to all world-views which insist on the inerrancy and perfection of texts as guide through life (190).3 B.D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (New York 1993).

344 Reviews Chapter 6 on critical editions treats the issue of how to represent differences between manuscripts. After an overview of the main printed editions, we get a discussion of critical electronic editions. These are new edition(s) made with electronic tools, containing the fully searchable text in which the primary evidence of the documents is the source from which the critical apparatus is generated (216). Currently, two teams are working on electronically generated critical editions: the Institut fr neutestamentliche Textforschung (INTF) in Mnster, preparing the Editio critica maior, the apotheosis of the critical edition (200) and IGNTP with Parker.4 Parker evaluates electronic editions as easy to share and update; they also can be linked to images and search engines. However, such databases take forever to make and pose the challenge of maintaining the electronic record in the long term. Parker ends the chapter with a plea for cooperation among scholars instead of scattered electronic projects (and, I should mention, the IGNTP cooperates with the INTF). In part III (chapters 7-10), Parker dedicates a chapter each to four groups of NT manuscripts: Revelation, the Pauline corpus, Acts and the Catholic Epistles, and the Gospels. While these sections bring their own questions and thus require a different chapter organization, Parker discusses for each subset the available manuscripts, the Latin, Coptic, Syrian versions, and commentaries. In every chapter he also gives case studies of text-critical challenges, mostly of highly debated passages. These enable him to present different kinds of evidence and introduce different methods. Parker treats the Book of Revelation first (chapter 7), basically because it has the least number of manuscripts: only 306 out of 2744 NT manuscripts and no lectionaries. He draws attention to the noteworthy chronological distribution of the copies. Many were written comparatively late, in the 14th-16th centuries. Clearly, in these difficult centuries around the fall of the Byzantine Empire, the message of Revelation resonated. As the Ottoman authorities restricted printing, scribes continued to copy the book manually, often with commentary. The number of the beast 666 or 616 in Rev. 13:18 serves as case study. Parker notes that this passage poses an unusual problem for the textual critic, in that the best way of applying internal criteria is not obvious when the writer has intentionally concealed his meaning (242). We catch a glimpse of how ancient authors dealt with such issues in Irenaeus of Lyons discussion of the different numbers (late second century) itself also proof that the variants circulated then.

The section on Paul (chapter 8) begins with the production of his letters and the development of the Pauline canon. Parker imagines, quite plausibly, that Paul dictated his letters to an amanuensis, who then prepared a neat copy for the recipients, perhaps with revisions from Paul while Paul himself kept the original. This scenario leads to several intriguing questions: did Paul compile the letters from his archived copies, or did individual churches collect them? Can differences in the text have arisen because of these different copies? And what are its implications for editing the Pauline corpus? As text critical examples Parker has chosen the end of Romans, 1 Cor. 14:34-35, and Heb. 2:9. The ending of Romans presents a key text critical question, since varied forms of evidence suggest that the letter in antiquity circulated in a 14-chapter version, compared to the current 16 chapters. Parker lists the possible scenarios that confront scholars of Romans: Romans as written only to a single specific church, Romans planned as a multi-destination letter, Romans as a letter first sent to Ephesus and then revised and extended, or else a letter sent first to Rome and then to Ephesus (274). This issue thus bears upon Parkers larger agenda to show the broader significance of textual criticism. And so does the next: 1 Cor. 14:34-35 and the role of women. Are these verses Pauline or a later interpolation? Parker lays out the evidence for both positions and lets the reader decide. His third example is Heb. 2:9. Did Jesus taste death by the grace of God, or without God? Reviewing external (manuscript) and internal (authors language, thought) evidence, Parker concludes: that reading is original which explains all the others (279). In this case, with reference to Ehrmans contextualization in Christological debate: without God. Chapter 9 focuses on manuscripts of Acts and the Catholic epistles. Parker devotes separate sections to the notoriously difficult textual transmission of the Acts of the Apostles and that of the Catholic Epistles. Referring to his earlier work on the Codex Bezae, Parker suggests that instead of two recensions, the text of Acts is the result of stages of growth (298). In the section on the Catholic Epistles, Parker mentions Klaus Wachtels conclusions that the Byzantine text is not a late recension, but rather the result of a long process of development (306). Parker introduces conjectural emendation in a discussion of 2 Pt. 3:10, distinguishing between literary corrections and conjectures (308-309). In chapter 10, Parker tackles The Gospels, the tetraevangelium, or more than a half of all continuous-text Greek copies of New Testament writings (311). According to Parker, scholars often make general observations about the text of the NT that in fact only apply to the gospels, for instance with the question of text types. Rather than trying to establish a supposed original text, Parker underlines the significance of the fact that there is such a degree of textual variation,

346 Reviews arguing that early Christians changed the wording of the text (especially of sayings of Jesus) in order to bring out the meaning of the text in it (338). Case studies in this chapter range from a minor addition with major implications in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt. 5:22), to harmonization, the endings of Mark, and the pericope adulterae (John 7:53-8:11). Parker ends his book (chapter 11) with suggestions for new research and reflections on the lasting role of scholarship in the field of NT textual criticism, also when electronic means are used. This book makes a worthwhile and inspiring read for everyone working on or interested in manuscripts and editions of texts, expert and beginner alike. And not just NT specialists, also scholars in other fields. Indeed, throughout the book, Parker converses with scholars from other disciplines, editors of classical texts and of the works of English language novelists, even geneticists. I found this refreshing. He does expect his readers to know their NT and occasionally cites Greek without translation, so I advise undergraduate students to have a Bible at hand. Appropriately, this book that emphasizes the use of electronic media has its own website. Still, the convenience of providing images online can be debated. I often found it difficult to study the full image on my laptop computer. Not to mention that I read part of the book on the train without internet access. Nevertheless, I appreciated the ability to zoom in on details, the large number of plates (51), and the links to other pages; worth the experiment. Princeton University AnneMarie Luijendijk

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 347-349 T.J. Kraus, M.J. Kruger, and T. Nicklas, Gospel Fragments. Oxford Early Christian Gospel Texts 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. xx + 304 pages. ISBN 978-0-19-920815-9. This volume contains critical editions of a number of ancient gospel fragments. For the purposes of the series a gospel is defined broadly as an account of the life and teaching of Jesus. The fragments in this volume do not refer to themselves as gospels, nor are they identified as gospels by any known ancient writer. Rather, the first editors or later commentators thought that they might have been part of ancient gospels. Nonetheless, as Kraus notes in the introduction to the book, it is possible that they actually are from gospels that survive only in these manuscripts. Nicklas is responsible for the so-called Egerton Gospel (P.Egerton 1 = P.Egerton inv. 2),1 comprising three fragments of three leaves of a codex, a scrap with a single on its , plus P.Kln 255, a small piece that adjoins the bottom of frag. 1. He begins with an introduction to the fragments, including brief consideration of the hand, codex, nomina sacra, use of the diaeresis, text division, and orthography. However, there is no discussion of corrections on both sides of the Kln fragment and the restored text omits details of the same. Likewise, the fact that the pen sometimes drew two lines instead of one, apparently because it was too deeply slit, is not mentioned. It is unlikely that either a professional scribe or the person who commissioned the work would have found this acceptable, and it is probably indicative of private copying. Each restored page has an English translation on the facing page and is followed by notes and commentary. The notes evaluate previous reconstructions and identify possible canonical, apocryphal, and septuagintal parallels, while dependence is discussed in the commentaries. There the main focus is the oft-discussed question of dependence on the canonical gospels. Nicklas approaches each side of each leaf as an individual entity. This is overly cautious. If the author was familiar with the text of John in 1, how is it that he did not also draw upon it in 2? Analysis of the text as a whole would have been better. If there is dependence on John in one place, then allusions elsewhere are probably the result of creative redaction. That knowledge should then have informed

1 The actual designation of the manuscript is P.Egerton 1 (not P.Egerton 2) = P.Lond. Christ. 1. On confusion between the publication and accession numbers see S.R. Pickering, The Egerton Gospel and New Testament Textual Criticism, in C.-B. Amphoux and J. K. Elliott (eds.), The New Testament Text in Early Christianity (Lausanne2003) 215-233 (at 215-216).

348 Reviews evaluation of the use of the synoptic gospels. Based on the use of John, Nicklas dates the papyrus to the first quarter of the second century. P.Oxy. 840, with its later date, has not received anywhere near the attention given to P.Egerton 1. The manuscript is comprised of a single parchment leaf from a miniature codex (7.2 8.6 cm). Kruger, in a good discussion of palaeography, ink, punctuation, scribal habits, corrections, and nomina sacra, dates it to the first half of the fourth century.2 Yet on the basis of the historicity of details in the apocryphal story, he tentatively places the time of composition in the middle of the second century. But the historicity argument, as Kruger acknowledges, is vulnerable on several counts, and this in turn undermines the conclusions reached about dependence. Since there are clear verbal, structural, and thematic connections to five passages in all four canonical gospels,3 it is difficult to sustain the view that the memory of those texts unconsciously flowed into the composition of P.Oxy. 840 (p. 157). Unconscious composition sounds like an oxymoron when all five passages are thematically related, and it becomes more untenable as the date of composition gets later. The restored text is accompanied by a free translation which depends on Krugers interpretation as outlined in the introduction. The commentary concerns itself primarily with possible reconstructions while noting canonical parallels. In the last part of the book, Kraus looks at miscellaneous small fragments. His discussion of P.Vindob. G. 2325 (the so-called Fayum Fragment) is judicious. However, the conclusion that the text differs from the synoptic accounts in the same way that Matthew does from Mark is slightly off course, given the fragments dating to the third century and dependence on the more detailed synoptic accounts. P.Mert. 51, according to the editio princeps, comes from another third-century manuscript. There is dependence on Luke but the papyrus is broken on three sides and the reconstruction is uncertain. The documentary hand points to production for private use rather than use in public worship. In stark contrast is the upright literary majuscule of P.Oxy. 1224. Dated to the fourth century, its dependence on the canonical gospels in two or three places is virtually certain. As with the other two fragments, little or nothing can be ventured about an early composition date.4 Two other fragments are from the sixth century. P.Berol. 11710 appears to have been written by an illiterate copyist. The hand is child-like, letters are left out, and the orthography is inconsistent. There is a dependence on John,2 Cf. IV, Grenfell/Hunt (ed. pr.) and Turner (Typology, 144); and IV-V, van Haelst, Catalogue, no. 585. 3 Use of M and L rule out a pre-synoptic source (p. 158). 4 Other early manuscripts such as PSI 1200bis and P.Oxy. 210 were excluded because of the difficulty of obtaining a sound reconstruction.

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and an acknowledgement that Jesus Christ is God is written in Coptic by the same hand (between esoteric symbols that appear to adapt the staurogram ). Kraus suggestion that the two small leaves (6.5 7.5 cm) were part of an amulet is reasonable. P.Cair. G. 10735 contains allusions to Matthew and Luke. Deissmann thought it was a homily or commentary rather than an apocryphal gospel. Be that as it may, the late date almost certainly precludes any possibility of independence. Good quality plates of most of the papyri are provided. But the images of P.Egerton 1 are too small to be useful, especially in comparison with the generous images of the Kln fragment. An image of P.Cair. G. 10735 could not be obtained. Overall, this is a useful volume that makes the study of these fragments accessible for interested scholars. The extensive bibliographies will be valuable in this regard. Discussion of the various fragments is generally well-informed and lucid. However, in some cases earlier editions will have to be consulted for details that should not have been omitted. To guard against this, explanation of the Leiden system (presumably, the majority of readers will not be papyrologists) and diplomatic editions of the papyri would seem warranted. Kraus has provided a version of these for most of the miscellaneous fragments. Consistency in this regard would be desirable for future volumes in the series. Pacific Adventist University Scott Charlesworth

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 351-353 Roger S. Bagnall, Early Christian Books in Egypt. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2009. xvi + 110 pages. ISBN 9780-691-14026-1. The four chapters comprising Roger Bagnalls Early Christian Books in Egypt are based on four lectures delivered in May 2006 at the cole Pratique des Hautes tudes (5e section). Since the chapters preserve the general character and style of the lecture series, this book is a fairly straightforward and easy read that is readily accessible to the non-specialist. This does not imply, however, that it is of little or no value to the specialist, as Bagnall periodically challenges the status quo by inviting specialists in the field to rethink some of their assumptions about the early Christian literary remains from Egypt. In Chapter One, The Dating of the Earliest Christian Books in Egypt: General Considerations, Bagnall declares that as a result of the current state of scholarship, which he provocatively characterizes as self-enclosed and lacking in self-awareness, he feels compelled to wade into this subject matter. In this chapter Bagnall is principally troubled with the assumption/conclusion allegedly pervasive in scholarship that the presence of early Christian fragments from various locations in the chora necessarily implies that already in the second century Christians had a significant presence throughout Egypt. He counters by pointing out that some of these early Christian fragments probably date to the third century. He also suggests that the proportional number of early Christian fragments can be potentially misleading since whenever such a fragment is found it tends to be published immediately whereas non-Christian literary fragments from the same period are not pursued and published with such urgency. Bagnall therefore argues that Christian texts could actually be proportionally overrepresented in the second century and thus give a misleading impression about the actual number of Christians in the chora at this time. In the second chapter, Two Case Studies, Bagnall seeks to highlight how there are sometimes hidden agendas at play in the palaeographically based dates assigned to early Christian documents. He therefore assesses the controversial dating of some early pieces by Carsten Thiede to underscore this point. He convincingly shows how Thiedes attempt to redate two fragments of Matthew (P64 and P67), first to the late first century, then to the mid first century, was based more on a theological agenda that sought to establish an early date for this Gospel than it was on a rigorous and sincere attempt to correctly date these two fragments. Bagnall then juxtaposes this episode with Nikolaos Gonis judicious and impartial dating of certain early fragments belonging to the Shepherd of Hermas (P.Oxy. 69.4706) to demonstrate how paleographical dating should ideally be conducted. Bagnall concludes the chapter with a warning

352 Reviews that since paleographical dating is to some degree subjective it is always open to radical attack by those who wish to promote a particular agenda. In Chapter Three, The Economics of Book Production, Bagnall considers the relative cost of producing codices, both Christian and non-Christian, in the first few centuries. Starting with the handful of references that mention the costs of ancient books, Bagnall examines the economics behind book production from a number of perspectives and in great detail explains the various costs involved in the making of a codex. This assessment leads him to believe that for a person of average income (p. 63) the cost of purchasing a single book was prohibitive, and that when we think of early Christian books we should think of them as belonging primarily to wealthy individuals or members of the clergy for whom the church may have purchased such texts. In the final chapter, The Spread of the Codex, Bagnall weighs in on the early use of the codex by Christians. While he often reiterates and confirms observations made by previous scholars, his use of recent statistical data (derived principally from the LDAB) represents a welcome contribution as it brings his observations into sharper focus. In the second half of the chapter Bagnall considers why early Christians preferred the codex to the roll in such large proportions. After considering previous answers to this question he simply proposes that the early employment of the codex by Christians was largely a result of Romanization the spread of Roman habits and technologies throughout the empire. On a number of fronts this work has much to offer and Bagnalls preeminence as one of the foremost authorities in Greek papyrology is evident throughout, as he frequently makes astute observations about early Christian literary papyri and does an admirable job of situating and contextualizing these fragments within the matrix of Roman Egypt. For example, in Chapter Three Bagnall takes a masterful stab at explaining the various costs incurred in making a codex. He resists rendering a straightforward estimate for the cost of a typical New Testament Codex or a complete Christian Bible (OT & NT) by pointing out that such an estimate is made much more complex by a number of issues (materials, labor, binding, inflation, etc.). The discussion here is exceptionally thorough and elucidating. Notwithstanding the strengths of this work, it does suffer from some shortcomings. Since it reads like a lecture series it sometimes glosses over controversial issues or makes sweeping generalizations. This is most apparent in Bagnalls presentation and depiction of New Testament/Early Christian scholarship as it pertains to the study of the early Christians literary remains from Egypt. To state, as Bagnall does at the start of Chapter One, that much of this scholarship is self-enclosed or lacks self-awareness is an oversimpli-

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fication and belies both its breadth and diversity. Later, at the end of Chapter Four, this sweeping treatment of such scholarship is evident again. Here Bagnall argues that it was as a result of Romanization that Christians adopted the codex as the medium to transmit their sacred writings and remarks that scholars of early Christianity have been unwilling to make this logical move since the Christian church in this period is characterized in this scholarship as a counter-cultural movement unfriendly to the imperial power. However, in a number of recent studies, curiously none of which are cited by Bagnall in this context, various scholars of early Christianity have argued in one form or another that the use of the codex in early Christianity was the direct result of its wider use in Roman society and that therefore elements of Romanization were certainly at work in its adoption by Christians. In sum, despite the minor shortcomings of this work that result primarily from its lecture-like presentation style, there is much to offer. Both the non-specialist and specialist alike will surely glean many useful insights from Bagnalls lucid and often original treatment of the early Christian literary remains from Egypt. Brigham Young University Lincoln Blumell

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 355-358 AnneMarie Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008. xix + 294 pages including 6 plates. ISBN 978-0-674-02595-0 The book, which is a revision of the authors 2005 Harvard dissertation, chronicles a quest to identify Christians in the papyrus documents of Oxyrhynchus of the pre-Constantinian era (1). Luijendijk escorts readers on a guided tour through Oxyrhynchus, in which we are led through the various papyrological testimonia for Christians and their lives from the city and its nome. In the process, she provides a significant new contribution to the study of early Christianity in Egypt and a thorough examination of the methodological issues one faces in dealing with this material. Chapter 1, Destination: Oxyrhynchus, moves from the Historia Monachorums well-known description of Oxyrhynchus and the story of the discovery of the Oxyrhynchus papyri, to an explanation of the chronological (up to 324 CE) and geographical focus. A short but useful discussion of the towns native and imported cults and a brief summary of the evidence for Christianity in Oxyrhynchus sets the scene for the investigation to follow. Chapter 2 (How do you know a Christian when you see one? God, Christians, and Personal Names) invites us to observe the people in the marketplace of ancient Oxyrhynchus and to consider how we might tell which of them were Christian. Rightly noting that ancient Christians were in most public aspects indistinguishable from their contemporaries, Luijendijk frames her search in terms of one for markers of identity, eschewing the language of criteria for assigning documents to a Christian provenance adopted by most previous treatments (30). She argues that this acknowledges factors that Christians themselves used to denote their identity, rather than potentially reifying and essentializing Christianity. To some this distinction may seem largely semantic, and a more explicit discussion of the fact that a number of these markers, including not least the name of Christian, were used outside the Christian community (such as in the majority of texts discussed in chapters 6 and 7), would have been interesting. Nevertheless, this approach has the clear and welcome benefit of putting the emphasis on the agency of Christians and their scribal and social behavior. The chapter then assesses in turn three important markers: god () in the singular (which leads to examination of the adjective , which Luijendijk declines to accept as a secure marker of Christian identity); the use of the word ; and onomastics, which dwells on the names Jacob and Maria, and sets forth the challenges that names pose in the search for religious identity (though see my further comments on names below).

356 Reviews Chapter 3 turns to nomina sacra, focusing (as few previous treatments have) on their use in documents. Luijendijk examines the practice as evidence of teaching in Christian circles (58), treating nomina sacra as visual and symbolic in-group identity markers (61). Thirteen pre-Constantinian instances (two uncertainly dated) of nomina sacra are listed and analyzed. Luijendijk argues (correctly in my view) that contractions other than the fifteen commonly found (listed here at 65, n. 27), like that for Emmanuel found in two of the letters she lists, are not aberrancies caused by uninformed users, but evidence for an evolving and creative system (66); we might compare Manichaean practice, where contractions for Paraclete and Manichaios were seamlessly integrated into the pre-existing system. Arguing that the practice had to be learnt, Luijendijk points to several educational texts where students practice the nomina sacra, and adduces catechetical education as a further route to an understanding of their use (68-69). While I am in agreement with both these propositions, the haphazard nature of the use of the nomina sacra in some letters also seems to allow the possibility that some scribes picked up the system simply by observation of documentary practice. The second part of the book (chapters 4-5) focuses on the figure of Sotas; the six letters by, to, or mentioning a Christian leader of this name from thirdfourth century Oxyrhynchus have been known for a long time, but, somewhat astonishingly, no one has yet thought to connect them in their entirety and discuss them as a dossier. The demonstration, convincing to this reader, that Sotas was bishop of Oxyrhynchus in the second half of the third century is one of the most prominent achievements of the book. It recovers for us the most detail we possess on any bishop outside of Alexandria before the fourth century. Across these two chapters, Luijendijk presents the texts of all the letters in the dossier, establishes the internal coherence of the dossier and its reference to the same man, identifies him as a bishop, and argues on palaeographical and internal grounds that they should be dated in the 270-280s. The content and genre of the letters in the dossier leads to more detailed investigation of key aspects, such as letters of recommendation, the relationships between and internal workings of third-century Christian communities, and catechetical education. Chapter 5 uses P.Oxy. 12.1492 to launch a discussion of pious donations to the Oxyrhynchite Church, and follows this by positing a link between the presence of Sotas the Christian in Antioch circa 270-280 in SB 12.10772 and the council which deposed Paul of Samosata there in 268/9. This seems to me not unlikely, though she rightly offers other possibilities. Luijendijk is almost certainly correct that the designation of Sotas as Christian in SB 12.10772 serves as an indication of profession (and thus supports arguments that he was a bishop). What seems to me the logical corollary of the usage, that Sarapam-

Reviews 357

mon and his family were not Christians, yet regarded the local Christian bishop as sufficiently trustworthy to entrust a large amount of money for transfer, could have been made more prominent (see n. 60 on p. 141). The section on Sotas closes with an important new suggestion on the use of parchment for two of Sotas letters, behind which unusual practice Luijendijk plausibly sees the contours of a Christian scriptorium at Oxyrhychus (151). In its third part the book turns away from private affairs towards Legal matters and Government dealings. Chapter 6 search[es] for Christians in official papers. Examining the Decian libelli from Oxyrhynchus, Luijendijk makes a strong and welcome statement in support of the position that all citizens of the empire (or at least heads of households, see 171, n. 54, citing Rea) were required to perform the sacrifice, not only suspected Christians (168-173). The attempt to find a relationship between P.Oxy. 42.3035 and the persecution of Valerian (177-184, see esp. 182-183) is less successful, as to bring the text into the timeframe in which actions against the Christians took place the author can suggest only that the scribe miswrote the imperial year date. That the summons of Petoserapis had nothing to do with his Christianity remains more likely (note too that E.A. Judge and S.R. Pickering in JAC 20, 1977, 47-71, did not posit that the designation of Christian provided the legal ground for his summons; as quoted here at 182, n. 112, their point was that the term was by this stage an effective identification in legal matters). Chapter 7 turns to Subversion and Resistance during the Great Persecution. Luijendijk analyses in depth P.Oxy. 33.2673, for my thoughts on which I may refer readers to the article by myself and R. Yuen-Collingridge in BASP 46 (2009) 109-138. Luijendijk is inclined to accept Paul of the Oxyrhynchite nome in P.Oxy. 33.2665 as a victim of the persecution (210-213), and also examines the implications of her suggestion at 214-215 that Aurelius Athanasius, the procurator rei privatae who features in both these documents, is a Christian on account of his name (214-215). Despite the interesting questions this raises, I remain less comfortable with names being assessed as markers of individual identity than I am with the use of onomastics in large-scale analysis (which is itself being increasingly problematized). It is true that the name Athanasius only becomes prominent in the late third century, but there are too many unknowns (with prospects ranging from apostasy to the possibility that non-Christians did in fact use the name) for me to find arguments over specific cases convincing. Still less am I persuaded that the name Paul can be used to detect Christianity (see here 97, n. 53; 212 with n. 85): the common Roman name which Saul bore remained common among Romans (including many in Egypt) in the following centuries.

358 Reviews Chapter 8 concludes the book by recapitulating the New Voices in Ancient History that these papyri allow us to hear, positioning the ambivalence, ambiguity, and lack of theological diversity in the documents against the picture drawn by Christian literary sources, and underlining the social diversity and variety of perspectives one encounters among the documentary papyri. By its careful and exhaustive study of all the relevant documents, this book offers new insights into the subjects with which it deals. It also provides a full and excellent introduction for the student and non-specialist; that the texts of all the documents dealt with are provided along with translations is especially useful in this regard. The vocabulary and circumstances found in the papyri are compared throughout with the testimony of literary texts, resulting in many useful observations and advances in the understanding of the papyri. This important new study of early Christianity in Egypt is a most welcome addition to the literature on the subject. Macquarie University Malcolm Choat

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 359-364 Roger S. Bagnall and Raffaella Cribiore, Womens Letters from Ancient Egypt 300 BC-AD 800, with contributions by Evie Ahtaridis. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2006. xiii + 421 pages. ISBN-13: 978-0-472-11506-8; ISBN-10: 0472-11506-5. Roger Bagnall and Rafaella Cribiore have collected all known (as of mid2003) letters by women on papyri or ostraca from Ptolemaic, Roman, and Byzantine Egypt (and even a few from the early Arab era) a period of over a millennium. The printed version of Womens Letters from Ancient Egypt, published in 2006, presents translations with brief commentary of 210 of these letters; some are illustrated by black and white reproductions. However, their work is also available as an E-book through the ACLSs History Book Project, and the electronic version includes slightly expanded introductory chapters and bibliography, an additional 104 letters (mostly Coptic ostraka or very fragmentary Greek texts), somewhat fuller commentaries, digital images of the original papyri or ostraca (most, but not all, of which can be enlarged), and a link to the Perseus website for a transcription of the Greek texts (from the Duke Data Bank of Documentary Papyri). Interested readers will therefore wish to consult the E-book as well as (or instead of) the 2006 publication, particularly as it can be updated and enhanced continually. The electronic version also makes Womens Letters an ideal resource for courses on women and the family in the ancient world or on ancient Egypt. Even those who have only the printed version available, however, will find this a rich and invaluable source for first-hand accounts by women in Hellenistic, Roman, and late antique Egypt. Indeed, as far as non-literary writing by women in Greco-Roman antiquity goes, the letters from Egypt are unique, except for a few letters (in Latin) from Vindolanda and petitions from women found in Egypt and elsewhere in the Middle East. Most of the letters written by women before late antiquity were in Greek, and most are from the Roman period. (There are no womens letters extant from Egypt in Latin, which was used mainly in military circles.) Very few letters by women are known from the Ptolemaic period, almost none of them in Demotic. Bagnall and Cribiore attribute this to the epistolary protocol of the time, which required an elaborate style (in Greek) appropriate to the status of the recipient. They do include several Demotic texts (more in the E-Book than in the published version), mostly from the early Roman period. Use of the Demotic script disappears after the second century, and not until the fourth century, with the rise of Coptic, is there again a vehicle available for composition in the Egyptian language. Interestingly, women take to writing in Coptic with alacrity; indeed, letters by women in Greek disappear after the fourth

360 Reviews century. This may reflect not only the persistence of Egyptian among women speakers throughout the Roman period, but also the withdrawal of women, even wealthy women, from the public spheres of business and legal affairs.1 The Coptic letters, all from a Christian context, are mostly on ostraca rather than papyri, and even those by women are usually addressed to men, often monks like Apa Pisentius or Apa John. These are requests for prayers or more tangible benefits, and are expressed in a language of supplication and language of inequality (72-73), as the letter-writers stress their poverty and need for aid in a manner reminiscent of petitions to officials in the Roman period. The first quarter of the book comprises ten short chapters introducing and discussing the letters as a whole and providing background information necessary for non-specialists (including students). The remainder of the book is devoted to the translations and commentaries, divided into two parts: Archives and Dossiers and Themes and Topics. The archives and dossiers are arranged chronologically; however, within archives and within the individual sub-headings under Themes and Topics the texts are organized alphabetically according to the letters of the abbreviation for the publication in which the text first appeared (e.g., papyri from BGU precede those from P.Oxy., which in turn precede those from SB. Those within the same published series appear in order of volume and papyrus number.) This means, for instance, that under the topic Legal Matters a Coptic ostracon from the Byzantine era appears before papyri from the early Roman period, and the earliest dated text in the section (P.Wash.Univ. 2.106) appears last. While initially somewhat frustrating for those looking for possible changes in themes or styles over time, this organization does point up the perennial nature of many of the topics about which women wrote: pregnancy and childbirth; illness and death of family members; weaving (though a male activity in Egypt, it was clearly also a concern to women) and household management; buying and selling of produce, cloth, and other items; but also litigation, debt (whether owed to women or by them), and taxes. It is particularly interesting to see how often matters of law appear in these letters and how ready these women were to involve themselves in legal affairs, particularly in the Roman period: Thermouthion instructs her brother Isidorus in a letter of the late third century (P.Oxy. 56.3855), If you learn that the governor is coming out, come here, but if not write me quickly . . . Write a petition about the matter you know and send it off, and let the subscription to the petition be brought to me.

Bagnall and Cribiore devote much of their discussion in the first part of the book to how much these letters can be said to represent the feelings and thoughts of the women who sent them. Can they really give us the unmediated voices of ancient women (6)? Most women were illiterate; even women of the more elite classes (from whom the letters are more likely to come, at least in the Roman period) were less likely to be literate than their male peers, and even those who could read might not have been able to write. The use of an amanuensis was extremely common in antiquity, even by the highly literate; indeed, these were the people most likely to have someone else pen their own letters. Those who could would often add greetings in their own hand to a letter written by someone else. This is illustrated by the case of Eudaimonis, the mother of Apollonios, the strategos of Apollonopolites Heptakomia in the second decade of the second century. The extensive archive of Apollonios includes twenty-five letters by women (which have been discussed more fully by Cribiore elsewhere2), many of them from Eudaimonis. Most of them were penned by a secretary (not always the same secretary), but to several of these Eudaimonis added a greeting in her own hand, and she apparently wrote three other letters herself. In general, however, one cannot determine the gender of the writer from the handwriting. More important than whose hand actually wrote the words is how faithfully the written words reflect those spoken by the women themselves. Here Bagnall and Cribiore are quite sanguine: if the style of the words themselves (rather than of the handwriting) is polished and grammatically complex, it is more likely to be the product of scribal composition (on the direction of the person dictating of the letter) rather than a faithful rendering of the senders own words. Therefore a style that is less smooth, with paratactic clauses and an oral flavor, can be assumed to represent the actual words of the woman at whose dictation the scribe was writing. Certainly the personalities of the women come through in many of these letters, despite their sometimes formulaic language, especially when we have more than one letter from the same person. Thus Isidora is business-like and bossy when sending instructions to her brother Asklepiades, twice in letters by her own hand (Archives and Dossiers 3). Eudaimonis is blunt, officious, and self-centered, perhaps something of a trial to her son Apollonios (caught up in the events of the Jewish revolt under Trajan) and no doubt to her daughter-in-law Aline (Archives and Dos2 Windows on a Womans World: Some Letters from Roman Egypt, in Making Silence Speak: Womens Voices in Greek Literature and Society, ed. A. Lardinois and L. McClure (Princeton 2001) 223-239; The Women in the Apollonios Archive and their Use of Literacy, in Le rle et le statut de la femme en gypte hellnistique, romaine et byzantine, ed. H. Melaerts and L. Mooren (Leuven 2002) 149-166.

362 Reviews siers 7; the womens personalities emerge more clearly in the E-book, which includes all twenty-five of the letters from women in the Apollonios Archive, whereas the published version has only eight). Rarely do we find sentimental outpourings of affection, even to spouses or children; that was not the purpose in writing. After initial greetings and prayers for the health and safety of the recipient, these women get down to business, often reproaching their correspondents for neglect or complaining about third parties. Or both: Heliodora to my mother, many greetings. I am strongly embittered toward you because you did not even deem me worthy of receiving news through a letter of yours. From the time when I went away from you, many troubles have been inflicted upon me by my daughter . . . Invoke the god for me so that he would pity me . . . I pray for your health (SB 16.12326, late third century). The commentaries to the texts focus on the hand and grammar of the letter-writer rather than the contents, which are usually simply summarized with brief notes on unusual words. The electronic version is somewhat more informative, although non-specialists, especially students, may still be puzzled by unexplained terms such as the lady Philotera in BIFAO 94 (1994) 32-33 (presumably the local goddess?) or the mysterious doums of P.Bad. 2.35. Much of the information about individual letters is given in the introductory chapters of the first part of the book rather than in the commentaries; the E-book has cross-references, but the printed version largely does not. Surprisingly, there is no map in either the published or the electronic version. The subject index is keyed to the introductory chapters and the commentaries, not to the texts themselves; thus someone looking under tax and tax collection would miss most of the references to taxes that actually appear in the letters. These are minor problems, however, in an extremely interesting, readable, and valuable book. As a sourcebook, Womens Letters from Ancient Egypt takes its place next to the 1998 book edited by Jane Rowlandson (Women and Society in Greek and Roman Egypt), to which Bagnall himself contributed and which served as one of the inspirations for this volume. The usefulness of Womens Letters for teaching courses on women and social life in antiquity has already been noted, but not only undergraduates will benefit from all the work Bagnall and Cribiore have done in gathering, translating, and explaining several hundred documents that previously appeared in a wide range of publications (many not available except in major research university libraries) over the past century. The inclusion of Coptic letters from Byzantine and early Arab Egypt is particularly valuable for classicists unfamiliar with the sources and the time period. Roman social historians, who have generally shied away from the Egyptian material (on the spurious grounds that Egypt was different from the rest of the Empire), now have no excuse for ignoring the wealth of

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material about family relationships, pregnancy and childbirth, and household economics that are revealed in these letters. Corrections and observations (these are keyed to the published version, but apply to the electronic version [as of June 2009] also): [p. 110, on P.Mnch. 3.57] The reference to Llewelyn 1994 should be S.R. Llewelyn (ed.), New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity 9 (Macquarie 2002) 57-58, which is not in the bibliography. [p. 134, on P.Fouad 75] On the significance of the eight-months child see A. Hanson in Bulletin of the History of Medicine 61 (1987) 589-602. [pp. 136-137, on P.Mich. 8.473] It might be worth noting here the discussion of this papyrus by J. Modrzejewksi (Iura 8, 1957, 93-101) on the damages paid by Tabetheus as ransom for Satornilos release. [p. 201, on O.Crum ST 233] The commentary speaks of Sarahs brothers surely this should be children? Brothers are not mentioned in the letter. [p. 382, on Enchoria 25 (1999) 178-182]: The published version dates this to the third-second century BC, but the electronic version says third-second century AD. Surely the printed version is correct? It is a Demotic text (and of great interest). [p. 207, on P.Neph. 18]: I do not understand why this is classified among letters to clergy and holy men; the recipients are married. [p. 215, on P.Oxy. 48.3407] On this very early reference to The Lords Day see Llewelyn, New Documents 9 (2002) 106-118. [p. 241, on P.Pisentius 28] Wilfong 2002, 40 explains bind here as put in monastic habit. This should be noted in the commentary since otherwise readers would understand it to mean physical bondage. [p. 272, on P.Oxf. 19] Surely Herminos is Serapias son-in-law? That would explain the connection between him and Serapias pregnant daughter, and also why Serapias addresses him as son. (One suspects some mother-in-law tensions in this relationship.) [p. 283, on SB 5.7572] A non-papyrologist cannot help wondering if the Thermouthas and Valeria in this letter are the same women as in P.Mich. 3.202 (p. 359). In SB 5.7572 Thermouthas writes her mother Valeria that she is seven months pregnant, and in P.Mich. 3.202 Thermouthas and Valeria write to Thermouthion to persuade her to become a wet-nurse to Thermouthas child. The hands of both are described in the same terms (I could not access the image of P.Mich. 3.202), and both documents lack connective participles. Both are from the early second century (find spot of P.Mich. 3.202 is unknown.) [p. 291, on P.Bad. 2.35] One would expect some reference to the probability that Johanna is Jewish. Also, what are doums?

364 Reviews [p. 326, on P.Benaki 4] I do not understand the sentence, That does not seem a necessary inference, as the authorities could no doubt have established the parties identity if necessary. Do Bagnall and Cribiore mean that the writer and recipient could have been subject to persecution as Christians if the letter dates before Constantine? That is not necessarily the case; unless they were forced to sacrifice and refused. (See A. Luijendijk in Journal of Early Christian Studies 16, 2008, 341-360 on papyri from the time of the Great Persecution.) [p. 398-399, on P.Mich. 8.508] On page 75, in discussing Childbirth, Bagnall and Cribiore wonder why Thaisarion asks to be sent jars of radish oil because (she says) I need them when I give birth. In the commentary they suggest the oil was used to cook food for guests celebrating the birth. More likely Thaisarion really needed the oil for the birthing process itself. Soranus recommends laying cloths drenched with warm olive oil over the abdomen and labia of the parturient (Temkin translation, p. 72). Radish oil was evidently a cheaper alternative. (The letter-writer in O.Florida 14 [p. 167] tells her pregnant sister that she is going to bring jars for your delivery when she comes to help with the birth. Bagnall and Cribiore gloss this as of wine but perhaps they are also jars of oil?) Emory University Judith Evans Grubbs

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 365-367 Kai Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk. Untersuchungen zu ihrer Entwicklung und zu ihren Bedingungen in der rmischen Kaiserzeit im stlichen Mittelmeerraum auf der Grundlage griechischer Inschriften und Papyri. Pharos 24. Rahden: Marie Leidorf, 2008. viii + 914 pages in two parts. ISBN 978-3-86757-252-1. This monument of erudition, originally a Habilitationsschrift of 2004, comprises a 520-page podium (Part 2) of data presented as a catalogue, a bibliography, and an index of sources cited (but no general index), and a 400page superstructure (Part 1) which collates and interprets the data to answer historical questions. An unfortunate practical effect of this monumentality is that both volumes, which are tightly bound, are impossible to open flat, and require considerable dexterity from any reader who also wants to take notes or check something in another book. In the digital age, it is legitimate to ask why the catalogue of evidence was not disseminated as a disk or, even better, made available on-line where it could have been linked to the growing range of papyrological and epigraphic instruments of study, and could also be periodically up-dated. If in time that happens, it will be a great boon. Ruffings subject is specialisation in crafts and trade in the eastern provinces of the Roman Empire from the time of Augustus through to Late Antiquity (first to seventh centuries), with some reference to earlier and later periods. His material for study is restricted to the specific titles for craftsmen and traders attested in the Greek-language papyri and inscriptions, a restriction which has resulted in a data-base in Part 2 of over 800 titles, each with a full list of references ranging from one in some cases to almost 300 in the papyri alone for tekton (carpenter) and some comments. The scale of R.s industry is plain from comparison with the 225 titles for all occupations attested in the Latinspeaking West. R.s project is to use these titles to assess the degree and nature of craft and trade specialisation across time on the assumption that greater differentiation in job titles reflects greater economic development, or at least market activity, in the society which produced them, rather than a fragmentation of skills due to the generally depressed condition of labour in that society. It is extremely useful to have this corpus of Greek titles to compare and contrast with previous collections and studies of occupational titles in Latin sources, although it is a pity that he squashes the epigraphic references into footnotes instead of more user-friendly tables as for the papyri. The corpus has immediately revealed interesting details about linguistic developments in the titles which are common to the papyri and the inscriptions (Egypt was not exceptional here). The influence of Roman rule, starting with military jargon, brought a Latinisation of Greek titles by grafting on the adjectival ending -arios

366 Reviews (from Latin -arius). In Late Antiquity there was a general trend away from compounds in -poles to -prates (both meaning -seller) and a growing use of hypocoristic (diminutive) forms ending in -as. In general, in marked contrast to the West where inscriptions dry up, there is no decline in the range of job titles attested; indeed variety grew through synonyms and new titles. R.s main conclusions from analysis of the data are that most occupational titles are specialised horizontally, that is by types of goods or raw materials, and that vertical specialisation by separate functions within an activity is rare. Among the crafts, jobs to do with textiles dominate (150 out of 636; 24%), and those to do with foodstuffs come second (15%), followed closely by jobs with metal (14%) and wood (12%). In trade, however, foodstuffs come first (127 out of 256; 50%) and textiles a poor second (15%), which suggests that textiles and indeed most craft goods were sold directly by their producers. Further support for this, I note, is the frequency of attestation of goods in Diocletians Edict on Maximum Prices which more closely matches the pattern for craft titles than trade titles. From an investigation of the cases of five eastern cities and two Egyptian towns and two villages, R. concludes that special natural resources and good transport links stimulated the variety of occupations, as did being an administrative or religious centre. Internal factors, which were weaker, included a desire to find a distinct economic niche (or produce more), training (apprenticeship), and some zoning of trades. Overall R. concludes that the high level of job specialisation in crafts and trades in the eastern provinces attests a market-oriented and prosperous economy under Roman rule and through into Late Antiquity. All of this is fine and very useful as far as it goes, but the very thoroughness of R.s treatment makes it apparent how much more work is needed before the questions he raises can be answered properly. His conclusion, for instance, that job specialisation does reflect a developed and sophisticated market economy rather than an inchoate and stagnant one is arrived at more by assertion and citation of other scholars than by argument. A proper argument would require some detailed discussion of selected comparative cases and closer study of the functional reality behind the Greek job titles. This is a fundamental problem which R. only begins to confront. He does note that many titles are synonyms, which opens the door to doubt whether the number of titles in Late Antiquity reflects more exuberant linguistic usage rather than continuing high specialisation. He does note that the attestation of titles depends on the availability of written evidence, but also side-steps this by claiming both to be indicators of economic prosperity. The cases of Rome with 160 (Latin) occupations and Korykos with its myriad funerary inscriptions suggest that more weighting by documentary circumstance is desirable. R. also notes that

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jobs may be part-time and that the status of people with the same job title may vary, a fact which points to the unexamined problem of comparability of scale and impact. There was a huge functional difference, for example, between an occasional street-side vegetable-seller and a wine-seller who bought up the vintages of large estates, as also between small independent businessmen and multiple agents of wealthy men, but R.s analysis treats all titles as of equal economic significance. To make progress in this area would require another book which undertook detailed studies, where possible, of groups of evidence, including archaeological evidence, which permit insight into actual working practices and their social and economic micro-environment. I am thinking of the first-century dossier of documents from the apparent neighbourhood of weavers at Oxyrhynchus and the hard ceramic evidence of types, distribution, and kiln wasters for specialisation in pottery. However, there is a limit to what can be achieved in one book, even a two-parter of generous proportions. Papyrologists and epigraphists will be indebted to R. for provision of this valuable commented gazetteer of Greek craft and trade titles, and historians will be challenged to take his investigations further. Kings College London Dominic Rathbone

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 369-374 Jean-Luc Fournet (ed.), Les archives de Dioscore dAphrodit cent ans aprs leur dcouverte: histoire et culture dans lgypte byzantine. Paris: De Boccard, 2008. 384 pages including 32 plates. ISBN 978-2-70180250-3. The site of Aphrodito (Kom Ishgaw) on the west bank of the Nile was already known to scholars and to antiquities hunters when Gustave Lefebvre arrived in Egypt in spring 1905 to work as Antiquities Service inspector for Assiut. Papyri dating from the eighth century, after the Islamic conquest of Egypt, had been found there in 1901. Now in 1905 clandestine diggers came upon papyri from the sixth century, Egypts time of flowering under Justinian and Justin II, and it was fortunate that Jean Maspero was on hand to begin making them known in the pages of the BIFAO. It is not only to commemorate the centenary of this discovery that the editor organized a conference to sum up one hundred years of what has been called, after the name of the archives protagonist, dioscorologie; it is also to encourage critical reflection on the texts themselves, in their historical setting and in both their languages. More texts have continued to come to light; published texts need re-editing; all require contextualization, commentary, and connection to wider worlds. Here, by scholars younger and older, are nineteen chapters that do just that. The introductory paper by Fournet, Archive ou archives de Dioscore? Les dernires annes des archives de Dioscore (pp. 17-30), shows that what is too easily termed the Dioscorus archive in fact comprises more strands and extends over a greater time span than has been previously thought. Using a new Greek text in Strasbourg datable to AD 587/8 plus a new Coptic letter found in Cairo and another Coptic letter once known to Crum, together with P.Cair.Masp. 3.67325 of 585, he argues that the widow Sophia, daughter of John, granddaughter of Cornelius (cf. G. Ruffini in BASP 45, 2008, 226-227), was Dioscorus wife. He also suggests that she may have acted for her husband after he retired ca. 573 into the monastery his father Apollos had founded (a monastery discussed later in the volume by Boudhors and Wipszycka). The next section, Languages and Cultures, comprises seven papers. In Il ruolo di Dioscoro nella storia della poesia tardoantica (pp. 33-54), Gianfranco Agosti confronts the material most associated with Dioscorus name, his Greek poems. He has once and for all banished tiresome old value judgments and instead placed these works in the socio-cultural fabric that produced them. Late Antiquity saw and heard poetry as a more elevated medium than prose. Dioscorus creation of what we term literature was a social fact with a practical function, meant to assure a portion in the shared paideia of the Mediterranean world, and he deployed his lingua galante to show that

370 Reviews both he and his laudandi belonged to that world. Agosti also emphasizes the performative aspect of the poems, the variations in genre, and the poets debts to Homer, Nonnus, and others. Dioscorus does not seem to have influenced followers, at least in the East (on the chain of poetry see the review in BASP 46 [2009] 287-290). Gregg Schwendner (An Applied Linguistics Approach to Dioscorus Homeric Glossary and Poetic Corpus, pp. 55-66) then performs technical analysis on our writers copy of the Scholia Minora with an eye to how he both used older words and created his own poetic diction. I am overjoyed to find that a project is underway to free what almost thirty years ago I called the Coptic archive of Dioscorus of Aphrodito (Cd 56, 1981, 185-193) from its willed oblivion and to present him as a bilingual text-producer in a bilingual society. Anne Boudhors (Du copte dans les archives dApolls, pp. 170-175) corrects mistakes and suggests a different level of respective language familiarity and a different direction of source-to-target, while Arietta Papaconstantinou (Dioscore et la question du bilinguisme dans lgypte du VIe sicle, pp. 77-88) audaciously proposes that it was Dioscorus himself who consciously innovated in taking the step of engrossing documents in the vernacular. She also wonders as have I why neither he nor any other bilingual author of his period is known to have composed poetry in Coptic. Dioscorus the teacher was in her view intentionally giving the written form of Egyptian higher value in the eyes of local elites and making it perform functions hitherto reserved for Greek. The formation and rhetorical education of bilingual notaries is also important in the sphere of law at a time when Latin was in comparative decline. With the aid of twenty-four plates Lucio del Corso (Le scritture di Dioscoro, pp. 89-115) vividly shows how far we have come from just Bells Hand A and Hand B. Del Corso examines a database of fifty-six Greek documents spanning over thirty years, calling attention to how a single scribe could employ both a display script and a regular body-of-the-text script within the same piece. Then he studies fifty-four literary and paraliterary Greek texts ranging over twenty-plus years, keeping in mind parallels with the protominuscule of contemporary and later devotional and Fachliteratur works. An intertwined pair of questions remaining to be answered is (a) how it was that the letter-forms chosen to write Egyptian what became Coptic were Greek book-hand forms and (b) how deliberately close was Dioscorus Coptic scriptexecution to his poetry-for-presentation Greek script-execution.1

Cf. Jennifer Cromwell, Greek or Coptic? Scribal Decisions in 8th-Century Egypt, paper given at the conference Beyond Free Variation: Scribal Repertoires in Egypt, Oxford, September 2009 (I thank her for a copy).1

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Then comes Dioscorus the lawyer. What law did Dioscorus study and how did he use his learning in producing documents for his clients? In an awkwardly-worded but insightful paper, Dioskoros and the Law (on Succession): Lex Falcidia Revisited (pp. 117-142), Jakub Urbanik examines the famous apokeryxis papyri and a testament to suggest that our notarys varying employment of the term may manifest his grounding in Roman law as it had been before Justinians codification. Klaas Worp (Witness Subscriptions in Documents from the Dioscorus Archive, pp. 143-153) usefully tabulates document witnesses, whose number increases in the Byzantine period, by date, by place of origin, and by profession, to ask questions about legal competence and regional diversity. This leads into the second main section, Society and Civil, Military and Religious Institutions, comprising nine papers. Building on his 2008 monograph Social Networks in Byzantine Egypt, Giovanni Ruffini (Factions and Social Distance in Sixth-Century Aphrodito, pp. 157-170) looks vertically at flight risk, the often-studied murder mystery, and livestock thefts to discern hitherto undetected patronage ties and to work out where and with whom the centers of village power lay. Opposing our local friend Count Ammonios there appears the evil aristocrat Julian, encroaching from outside by using the village-versus-pagarchs disputes for his own gain to build up a huge personal estate. James Keenan, who has long studied village conflicts, in Tormented Voices: P.Cair.Masp. I 67002 (pp. 171-180) examines Dioscorus long petition to Athanasius, duke of the Thebaid (also discussed by Morelli in this volume), a text dated to around 567 that describes Aphroditos fiscal and social wrongs. This is a text that blurs documentary/ literary boundaries and, Keenan even suggests, incorporates the villagers own complaints as dictated to Dioscorus, who then tells the multiplex story as extensions of oral discourse (p. 179). Comparing data from Aphroditos cadaster (reckoning in land areas) from 524 (SB 20.14669) and tax register (reckoning in money sums) from 525/6 (P.Aphrod.Reg.) with those from the sixth-century Hermopolite tax account from Temseu Skordon (P.Lond.Copt. 1075),2 Roger Bagnall (Village Landholding at Aphrodito in Comparative Perspective, pp. 181-190) pulls together what we can know about the distribution of landownership in the two nomes to come up with figures for ownership by ecclesiastical institutions and by women. At Aphrodito, churches and individual priests (14 priests holding 11% of the property; one cleric per 16 landowners) owned a small percent of kometika land, a larger percent of extra-village astika; while at Temseu Skordon the principal church pays over 15% of the tax. Noticeably more women owned land2 I still think its sixth indiction corresponds to 546/7. This seems to be accepted by the other two editors of the forthcoming publication.

372 Reviews and paid higher tax at Aphrodito than at a comparable Hermopolite village. Bagnalls calculations lead to the conclusion that there was less inequality at Aphrodito than in its Hermopolite counterpart though the holdings of the shady magnate Julian (cf. Ruffinis paper in the volume under review) may have skewed matters. In addition, these property owners and their tax payments are studied by Miroslava Mirkovi (Les kttores, les syntelestai et limpt, pp. 191-202), who analyzes the terminology plus the legal texts to show that the autopract system worked, and how it worked. In this schema the possessores themselves paid their tax directly in advance to the provincial administration, without the money going through an intermediary. Tax burden did not lie on the village as a whole. The much-discussed syntelestes or contributor, not always necessarily an owner, could also pay tax on land he/she leased and/ or on behalf of a deceased party. Thus the chain could go upwards from the syntelestes to the owner (ktetor) to the state. The authorities of the Byzantine state come into the purview of Bernhard Palme in Dioskoros und die staatlichen Autoritten (pp. 203-222). In prose and verse our protagonist, who twice visited the imperial capital, both praised governors and rulers and stood up against the incursions of pagarchs; his works are functions of concrete situations and designed to accomplish specific ends. As a man of polite learning he would have received a sympathetic hearing from well-educated officials at top levels. Dioscorus relations with local powers were, however, more tense, as he dealt with their military power, their administration of justice, and their financial control. The dukes, the emperors representatives, were members of local magnate families, and as such also had to be praised by a member of a leading village family who was eager to be seen as sharing their values. At the same time the pagarchs contravened those values yet Dioscorus criticizes individuals, never the empire as such. In these connections too Dioscorus petitions, encomia, and epithalamia remain a window on Byzantium for scholars to explore. The next two papers also explore governance and power in Dioscorus world. Federico Morelli (Zwischen Poesie und Geschichte: die Flagornerie des Dioskoros und der dreifache Dux Athanasios, pp. 223-245) foregrounds P.Vindob. G 16334 to concentrate on the duke in office between 565/6 and 567/8, object of a petition and an encomium. He strikingly demonstrates that Dioscorian poetic epithets here Land of the Pharos reflect historical fact. According to Morelli, the addressee, an Athanasius who was formerly augustalis of Alexandria and curator of the imperial estates in the Thebaid and also duke of the provincia Aegyptus shortly after Theodoras death, is to be identified with Dioscoruss duke (hitherto PLRE 3, s.v. Athanasius 3). Wearing his imperial-official hat Athanasius also employed underlings of his own

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whom Morelli proceeds to identify. I myself wonder if this Athanasius could be further identified with the nephew of Theodora of that name (PLRE 3, s.v. Athanasius 5) whom John Philoponus thanks in the prooemium to his De opificio mundi, calling him by the Cyrillian epithet lion-cub. The soldiers serving in Upper Egypt under such leaders are studied by Fritz Mitthof in Das Dioskoros-Archiv und die militrischen Reformen Justinians in der Thebais (pp. 247-259). In place of most of the limitanei, who became ex-soldiers, Justinian over a decade stationed elite units of non-Egyptian origin, called after himself; further detachments placed outside the metropoleis served under vicarii. According to Mitthof, the emperors intention was to strengthen the frontier army so as to protect as many potential flashpoints as possible. He also suggests that some men of the old units might have been assigned to the pagarchs as security forces. The last two main papers deal with Aphroditos monasteries, so prominent in its landscape and its economic, social, and religious life. Ewa Wipszycka (Le monastre dApa Apolls: un cas typique ou un cas exceptionnel? pp. 261-273) looks at Dioscorus fathers monastic foundation of the new oros of the holy and Christ-bearing Apostles, called after its founder, correcting earlier incorrect attributions of certain texts to this monastery. She shows how the monastery, founded by a man familiar with monastic properties, lived by receiving donations, renting out its lands to elite villagers who sublet them to tenant farmers, raising livestock, and owning buildings in town. She also tries to reconstruct what would have been Apollos own founders typikon (or equivalent), specifying a community type of life (not taking the term eremitai literally), with governance by a prior helped by an oikonomos; procedures for entrance; and some limitations on independent financial dealings by associates and on community size. In her view Apollos, sensitive to his own and his familys religious prestige, probably became a monk himself only shortly before his death, commissioning his son to continue as lay supervisor. Related is Jean Gascous study Les Pachmiens Aphrodit (pp. 275-282), in which he identifies the complainants in P.Cair.Masp. 1.67021 (from 567), who mention Pachomius, as the monks who sought to build a church dedicated to Pachomius successor Petronius, who himself first headed the Sminos monastery in the Panopolite. This latter monastery had long-standing ties with Aphrodito and with Dioscorus family holdings (as seen in the cadaster). Gascou further identifies the addressee not as the local bishop but rather as the abbot of Pbow or the patriarch of Alexandria (at the time a contested see after Theodosius

374 Reviews death in exile). If correct, this witnesses to the aftermath of Justinians efforts to co-opt the Pachomians in the cause of confessional unity.3 Finally we have two appendices, hugely widening our horizons. In his first, Fournet acquaints us with more unpublished papyri from the archive under his hand and sets them in relation to known texts, many corrected here (Les papyrus des archives de Dioscore Strasbourg, pp. 285-306). As is known, bits and pieces from the 1905 find were immediately taken to all parts of the scholarly world. Strasbourg boasts twenty-nine inventory numbers of Greek inedita, including a register of payments in grain and money to monks, guards, bucellarii, and others from 526/7 that follows right after P.Aphrod.Reg. of 525/6. There are also three Coptic texts, one with a Greek list of money payments on its side. Especially exciting is the second appendix compiled by Fournet, a long-awaited Liste des papyrus dits de lAphrodit byzantine, pp. 307-343. The compiler, himself in process of assembling a fichier and a database of digital images of the Byzantine papyri of Aphrodito, gives corrections (especially redatings) when possible, including places of re-edition. Items are listed in Checklist alphabetical order with odd-ones-out at the end. They are classified under the categories of literary/paraliterary and documentary, with Greek and Coptic (the latter flagged as such) happily together. With the push of a button to set them all in chronological order (which will be possible in the future) we would have the history laid out diachronically before us. In the sixth-century world of Dioscorus there is material for people interested in history (social, economic, administrative, military), literature, theology, even philosophy. For a century we have had evidence that has in the last twenty years begun to be known. Here we encounter in full complexity a person of the late Eastern Roman Empire who received, transmitted, and enlarged the Mediterranean paideia, functioned as a public servant, participated in religious life, and was connected to his home and to the wider world. We see new kinds and new functions of literacy, new ways of making a living and of furthering and responding to change. The Dioscorus archive will continue to be studied. The volume under review will be a sure guide. Society for Coptic Archaeology (North America) Leslie S.B. MacCoull

Bulletin of the American Society of Papyrologists 47 (2010) 375-382 Jitse H.F. Dijkstra, Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion: A Regional Study of Religious Transformation (298-642 CE). Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 173. Leuven, Paris, and Dudley, MA: Peeters, 2008. xvii + 466 pages. ISBN 978-90-429-2031-6. The island of Philae has traditionally been associated with the end of paganism in Byzantine Egypt because of the account in Procopius Persian Wars of the closure of the last pagan temple at Philae under Justinian in 537. The petition drafted by Dioskoros of Aphrodito in 567 (P.Cair.Masp. 1.67004), in which a man is accused of, among other things, renewing pagan sanctuaries on behalf of the Blemmyes, could also relate to Philae. These two pieces of evidence have been taken as showing both the persistence of indigenous Egyptian religion in the Byzantine period and the atypical nature of such a survival. The late pagan cults at Philae are further attested in Greek and Egyptian language sources the 4th-5th century CE inscriptions at Philae that include the latest known texts in Egyptian hieroglyphs and Demotic script, along with the Coptic Life of Aaron that includes a vivid account of the destruction of an idol at Philae and the end of its pagan cult. From these sources, individually or as a group, and other related material, historians have reconstructed lively or somber tales of the end of indigenous religion at Philae. But the sources themselves have never been examined critically as a group, and so their respective value and reliability as historical evidence have never been properly established. The volume under review here changes this situation dramatically. Jitse Dijkstras Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion is the first in-depth examination and analysis of the evidence for late pagan and early Christian activity at Philae. A revision of the authors 2005 Groningen dissertation, this book would be welcome simply for its critical appraisal of the sources in question. But it accomplishes much more than that; the author integrates his textual sources into their wider archaeological context in a way that makes clear the importance of place in the understanding of Philae. Moreover, the author situates his material into its wider historical context, and does this so effectively that what begins as a very specific study of a local problem expands to consider the transitions from paganism to Christianity in Egypt as a whole, and stands as one of the most important studies of this topic to date. This well written and deeply learned book is a tour de force of regional religious history that will also be essential reading for anyone interested in indigenous religion and early Christianity in this time of transition.

376 Reviews Philae1 is best known today for the Ptolemaic-Roman period Isis temple (one of the best-preserved of its kind) that was its most prominent feature, but the island was also home to other temples and related structures, as well as a Nilometer, extensive neighborhoods of mud-brick houses, and a number of churches. Scholarly attention has tended to concentrate on the Isis temple, with its elaborate textual and representational program, and also on the extensive series of graffiti and inscriptions on the island. Investigation of the archaeology of Philae has been much less thorough such work has been mostly in the nature of clearance, and little has been recorded of the material culture of the island in any period. Beyond the graffiti, few documentary texts survive from Philae. Thus, any study of Philae must also use literary sources about Philae, and comparative archaeological material from similar sites, such as nearby Elephantine and Syene, which provide useful parallels. Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion begins with a General Introduction in which the author sets up the basic premises and material for his study (pp. 1-42). The juxtaposition of the two major Greek sources for the end of paganism at Philae, Procopius Persian Wars and P.Cair.Masp. 1.67004, is both expected and useful, especially to the papyrological reader, who might be most familiar with these two texts. But the opening of this introduction, a vivid description of the discovery of the P.Cair.Masp. papyri at Kom Ichqaw, is a signal that this is not an ordinary text-based study, and also that the authors intentions are to integrate textual evidence, archaeological context, and physical environment as much as possible. The author draws on his own reedition of P.Cair.Masp. 1.67004 and more recent work on the text to refine the traditional understanding of Dioskoros petition and the significance of its references to the Blemmyes. The Blemmyes are significant for Procopius account of the closure of the temple in 537, in that the use of the shrines by barbarians is cited as a reason, and such barbarians in this time and place can only be Blemmyes. The author uses the widespread acceptance of Procopius account as evidence of the end of paganism at Philae (and, by extension, in Egypt as a whole) to look at the various models proposed for how paganism ended and Christianity dominated. Specifically, the divergent scenarios set forth by Roger Bagnall (in his 1993 book Egypt in Late Antiquity) and David Frankfurter (in his 1998 Religion in Roman Egypt) are examined throughout the volume under review. The authors introductory section concludes with a consideration of

The island of Philae was submerged in the 1960s as a result of the building of the Aswan dam; the major stone temples of Philae were moved to nearby Agilkia island, but the later churches and mud-brick houses were left at Philae. For convenience of reference, however, this review will refer to Philae as it was before these changes.1

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Philaes place as a border town, and also summarizes the kinds of evidence that will be used in the rest of the book. The main body of the book is divided into three parts: I, The Expansion of Christianity in the Region of the First Cataract in Late Antiquity (pp. 45-122), II, The Contraction of the Ancient Egyptian Cults at Philae in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries (pp. 125-218), and III, The Making of a Christian Philae in the Sixth Century (pp. 221-338), followed by a chapter of General Conclusions (pp. 339-349). The author begins each major part of the book with a brief section that concentrates on a document or group of documents that introduce the wider themes covered in the chapters to follow. These introductions serve as overtures, in effect; they are vividly and skillfully written and form one of the great pleasures of this book. Thus the first part begins with a brief vignette of how a papyrus archive came to light, in this case the Patermouthis archive from Elephantine, acquired both by market purchases and excavation (pp. 65-70). Again, the authors intention is to situate a mass of texts into a physical landscape, in this case the island of Elephantine and the adjacent site of Syene (modern Aswan). Both sites are known from a wide range of textual and archaeological evidence, much more extensive than what survives for nearby Philae, and the bulk of this section is devoted to an examination and synthesis of the evidence for the growth and expansion of Christianity at these sites so as to provide useful regional parallels for the situation at Philae. Much of this material is well known to scholars, but never before has it been brought together so effectively. The authors relatively brief summary of the Patermouthis archive (pp. 68-70) is a model of concision and insight, and is followed by equally astute analyses of what the documents tell us about the specifically Christian topographies of Syene (pp. 70-78) and Elephantine (pp. 78-83) in the sixth century. All of this serves as an introduction to the main focus of this section, the changing religious landscape of Syene and Elephantine (pp. 86-122). The author begins with an extensive discussion of the nature of temple conversion in Late Antique Egypt, the means whereby Egyptian temples were ultimately converted into Christian churches. Christian literature of the fifth and sixth centuries abounds in accounts of the violent destruction of pagan temples and images by Christians, and such accounts have often been taken literally by historians in discussions of conversions from temple to church. But it is clear that these stories often are set pieces that do not fit the historical or archaeological evidence and must be understood as literary works, written with an ideological agenda (p. 93).22 To the authors useful references for scholarly discussion on this point, one might add the essays in the recent volume J. Hahn, S. Emmel, and U. Gotter, From Temple to

378 Reviews The author goes on to survey the temples of Syene and Elephantine with specific attention to how they were converted into Christian churches. Both sites are well known and have been the subject of extensive recent excavations by the Deutsches Archologisches Institut, but the authors discussion in the present volume adds substantially to the understanding of the evolution of these temples into churches through careful integration of archaeological and textual evidence. Thus, the conversion of the Isis temple at Syene is examined in conjunction with the extensive graffiti on the site and the nearby remains of mudbrick houses in order to understand how the temple functioned as a church in its urban context. Likewise, the conversion of temples at Elephantine is studied in connection with inscriptions on a nearby quay wall used to record Nile levels, suggesting the presence of pilgrims traveling by boat to visit the Elephantine churches. Many of the authors interpretations of graffiti and inscriptions are based on his own re-readings of the texts in situ, with a new catalogue of the Syene graffiti in preparation and new texts of some of the Elephantine inscriptions already published (and these latter reprinted in Appendix 5 of the present work, pp. 361-362). The chapter closes with a summary of the changes seen in the sacred landscapes of the region (pp. 119-122). The second part of the book begins with a brief discussion of the challenges faced by indigenous Egyptian religion in the third and fourth centuries, as exemplified by an anecdote from a third century papyrus about concerns raised by an invasion of pigs into a sanctuary of the Nubian god Mandulis (pp. 125-129). This story provides the starting-point for a discussion of the declining fortunes of Egyptian temple cults in the third and fourth centuries. The difficulties caused by the withdrawal of state support of Egyptian cults and the resulting dwindling of temple building and funding for cultic activities must go a long way to explaining the ultimate end of these cults. Philae is seen as something of an exception to the general trends partly because of the documentation of activity at the site into the fifth century, and also because of the assumption that the local cults were somehow maintained, at least in part, to placate the Blemmyes and Nobades at Egypts southern border. The author gives an excellent summation of the relationship of Philae and the First Cataract region to the local tribal groups of Blemmyes and Nobades in the fourth and fifth centuries, and how their respective situations related to wider Roman and Byzantine concerns about Egypts southern border. It is clear that Philaes role as an Egyptian cult center made it important to both Blemmyes and Nobades, and requires examination of the evidence for cultic activity at Philae in this period.Church: Destruction and Renewal of Local Cultic Topography in Late Antiquity (Leiden 2008), which appeared after the volume under review here went to press.

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Without question, one of the most interesting and important parts of this book is the authors discussion of the later Greek and Demotic inscriptions at Philae, and what they tell us about the final years of the last known indigenous cult in Egypt (pp. 175-281). These inscriptions have long been known to scholars, but because of their publication history (with related texts often published separately by language and script) there has been little incentive to treat them as a corpus. Two of these inscriptions are superficially well known in that they are frequently cited: I.Philae Dem. 436, which includes the latest dated hieroglyphic inscription, from 394 CE, and I.Philae Dem. 365, the latest known Demotic inscription, from 452 CE. But even these two texts tend to be known only because of their date, and not because of their contents. Examination of these inscriptions as a group, though, reveals a wealth of data and a central set of sources for the authors wider argument. In particular, the fourth and, especially, fifth century inscriptions show a still-active and flourishing Isis cult, in which a regular and traditional program of religious festivals was still celebrated. But the inscriptions also show a cult in which the extent of its personnel seems to contract to center on the members of a single family in the fifth century a family of high-ranking priests many of whom share the Egyptian name Smet, or some variation on it. Smets feature in both the last dated Demotic inscription of 542 (I.Philae Dem. 365) and the latest known Greek inscription from a few years later (I.Philae 2.199, of 456/7 CE); both of these inscriptions allude to priestly titles in a way that suggests the existence of a fully functioning cult. But it is also a cult at or near its end; the author writes eloquently and, the reviewer feels, accurately about the isolation of the Isis cult at Philae at this period, and the author has done an impressive job of extracting information from, and making connections between, these important texts. This section represents a major contribution to scholarship. These inscriptions are, unusually, dated by years of a Diocletianic Era, rather than by the years of the reigning emperor (p.190). The Era of Diocletian,3 of course, ultimately became the Era of the Martyrs in Egypt, the chronological system by which the Coptic church continues to date to this day. The earlier use of the Era of Diocletian, however, seems to be predominantly pagan (most of the earliest examples are horoscopes and astrological texts of the early fourth century CE4), and may have additional significance in the present discussion. The latest hieroglyphic inscription outside of Philae, the funerary stela of the last known Buchis bull at Hermonthis, is similarly dated to year 57 of the Era

See R.S. Bagnall and K.A. Worp, Chronological Systems of Byzantine Egypt, 2nd edition (Leiden 2004) 63ff., for discussion and full list of examples. 4 See table in Bagnall and Worp (n. 3) 68-69.3

380 Reviews of Diocletian, 340 CE,5 and the end of the Buchis cult at Hermonthis may provide an instructive parallel, or at least a useful supplement to the authors discussion of the end of the Isis cult at Philae in the present volume.6 The survival of these indigenous cults into the fourth and fifth centuries, well after the withdrawal of any kind of official support, raises the very real question of how these cults managed to continue financially. We have no real documentation for the economics of the later cult at Philae, and the material from the Buchis cult only suggests a dramatic contraction of cult staff, as has already been shown for Philae in the present volume. Cults may have retained at least some of their income-producing land holdings and may have been able to rely on a dwindling amount of offerings from local worshippers, but it may not be too implausible to suggest that support of these cults may have shifted to the priestly families devoted to them. If this were true, the decline and ultimate end of the cults might have been as much a result of economic fatigue on the part of the last priestly families as of isolation in an increasingly Christian population. Such a privatization of cults might account for at least some of the discrepancies between the widely divergent scholarly views of the end of temple cults in Egypt. The final section of the book, on Christian Philae in the sixth century CE, begins with a vivid evocation of the conversion of the Isis temple into a Christian church under bishop Theodore (c. 525-577 CE), based on Greek inscriptions throughout the temple (pp. 221-224). This conversion of the temple is often seen as part of the chain of events connected to Justinians closure of the pagan temple in 537, but as the author continues to elaborate through the rest of the book, the situation was much more complex and nuanced. One of the most important sources for Christianity at Philae is the Coptic Life of Aaron, known from a full late tenth century manuscript as well as from sixthseventh century fragments on papyrus. Apa Aaron is described as the holy anchorite of Philae, and the Life contains much about his activities; one of the more interesting and relevant sections, though, narrates a story ostensibly told Mentioned in the present volume on p. 190, but the reference is unclear. The Buchis stela in question gives three dates in the Diocletianic Era: year 33 (= 316/7): the birth of the Buchis bull; year 39 (= 322/3): the installation of the Buchis bull; and year 57 (= 340): the death of the Buchis bull. These three dates are noted in Bagnall and Worp (n. 3) 63, 68-69, but correct there the repeated references to this text as Hieratic, for it is, in fact, in hieroglyphs. The material for the Buchis cult is summarized in L. Goldbrunner, Buchis. Eine Untersuchung zur Theologie des heiligen Stier in Theben zur griechisch-rmischen Zeit (Turnhout 2004). 6 The reviewer is currently working on a reconsideration of the evidence for the end of the Buchis cult and its aftermath.5

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to Aaron by Macedonius, the first bishop of Philae in the second quarter of the fourth century CE. Macedonius vivid description of his observations of a pagan cult at Philae and its worship of a wooden falcon and, more particularly, Macedonius description of his own beheading and burning of the wooden falcon, together with the subsequent conversion of the priests of the cult and the population of Philae are frequently cited in connection with the end of the Philae cult, and indeed sometimes taken literally. But the Life of Aaron is a literary text, and the chapters on this composition do a masterful job of treating it as such. Indeed, rather than attempting to tease historical fact from fiction, the author instead analyzes the text in terms of its purpose, its composition and its audience. Given the inscriptional evidence discussed in the earlier chapters for the survival of the pagan cult well into the fifth century and the church inscriptions that begin this section, the Life of Aaron is clearly an ahistorical account, but one ultimately intended, as the author puts it, to convey the message that Philae had definitively done away with its pagan past (p. 267). The author sees the Life of Aaron as part of a program for the construction of a Christian Philae. Connected to this program is the relationship of Philae to Christian conversion missions to Nubia. The author examines the varying accounts of sixth century Nubian missions in Procopius Persian Wars and the writings of the miaphysite author John of Ephesus (pp. 271-304). The first of these missions occurs in 536-548 CE when, as head of the border see, bishop Theodore of Philae was actively involved. This was part of Theodores larger program of recreating Philae as a Christian community, examined in the final chapter of the book (pp. 305-338). Here the author combines a closer study of the inscriptions of Theodore, briefly mentioned at the beginning of the section, with an extensive study of the architectural remains and archaeological evidence to show the physical environment of Philae was remade into a Christian environment. The transformation of the Isis temple into a church was only the most visible part of a program to reclaim pagan structures and spaces. The resulting Christian community had close ties with Elephantine and also became a pilgrimage destination (pp. 333-338). The authors brief summation of his book in the General Conclusions (pp. 339-349) is a most useful overview of the complex bodies of evidence and the authors interpretation of them. The volume concludes with a series of appendices; Appendices 1-3 (pp. 351-358) contain the Greek texts and English translations of the major Greek sources for the volume (the reviewer regrets that the relevant Egyptian language sources were not also included here it would have been very convenient to have had the Coptic text of the Life of Aaron as well as a transliteration of the Demotic graffiti discussed). Appendix 4 (pp. 359-360) contains a list of the known bishops of Syene and Philae in

382 Reviews Late Antiquity, Appendix 5 (pp. 361-362) includes Greek text and translation of some recently published Late Antique inscriptions from the area around Philae, and Appendix 6 (pp. 363-366) is a useful summary of known Demotic graffiti in Egypt by site and date. After a bibliography, an extensive set of indices (for sources, Egyptian, Greek and Coptic words, and general subjects) is most welcome, as are the sixteen figures that conclude the volume a combination of maps, archaeological and architectural plans and images of inscriptions that are a useful supplement to the text. The volume is handsomely produced with Peeters usual care and attention to detail. The foregoing may give little sense of the sheer pleasure of reading Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion, but this must not be overlooked. Part of this pleasure is due to the depth and breadth of the authors scholarship, his command of the sources and secondary literature. One proceeds from chapter to chapter with the assurance that nothing important has been missed or neglected, and even the most learned reader may find something new in these pages. But surely the greater part of the pleasure of this book is the quality of the writing, which is superb. Even the most technical discussions (and there are many) are written clearly and elegantly, and the authors prose carries the reader across the book. Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion is a useful reminder that the pleasures of excellent scholarship are enhanced by fine writing. The scholarly discussion of the end of indigenous religion in Egypt and its eventual replacement by Christianity will certainly continue, and indeed is likely to be even more extensive and lively in reaction to the volume here under review. Whatever directions this discussion may take, it is certain that Philae and the End of Ancient Egyptian Religion will remain central to any argument. In this book, the author has given us a well written and authoritative religious history that has significant implications well beyond its regional focus. University of Michigan Terry Wilfong